LA 

25 
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UC-NRLF 


IflD 


DR.  TAPPAH'S  DISCOURSE 

AND 

BACCALAUREATE. 


OF 


EDUCATIONAL  DEVELOPMENT: 


A  DISCOUESE 


13ELIVEKED   BEFORE   THE   LITERARY   SOCIETIES- 


OF   THE 


UNIVEKSITY  OF  MICHIGAN, 


ON 


MONDAY  EVENING,  JUNE  25,  1855.;, 


BY 


HENRY  P.  TAPPAN,  D.D.,  LLJX, 

CHANCELLOR   OF   THE   UNIVERSITY. 


ANN   ARBOR: 

£,   B.   POND,    PRINTER,   ARGUS   OFFtCBs 

1855, 


A  DISCOURSE. 


GENTLEMEN — MEMBERS   OF   THE   LITERARY  SOCIETIES  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF  MICHIGAN  : 

Society  !  What  meaning  in  that  one  word !  Society — 
does  it  not  speak  of  everything  dear  and  valuable  to  man ! 

The  garden  of  Eden  was  planted  by  the  hand  of  God — 
the  flowers  sprang  up  at  the  divine  touch — the  streams  flowed 
along  in  melody — the  heavens  poured  down  their  light — the 
earth  was  glad  in  beauty  and  abundance — and  man  stood 
there,  their  sole  possessor.  Heaven  and  earth  were  his,  and 
yet  his  existence  was  not  complete.  There  was  stirring  within 
him  an  indefinable  longing— a  mysterious  expectation  of 
another  gift.  Xature  spoke  within  him — a  true,  a  holy  na- 
ture— spoke  in  a  feeling,  in  a  sentiment,  for  which  he  had  not 
yet  framed  the  words.  The  divine  voice  gave  the  utterance, 
u  It  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone;" — and  when  man  was 
no  longer  alone,  then  in  realizing  the  idea  of  society,  he 
found  the  want  of  his  being  supplied.  In  sweet,  domestic 
charities  society  began:  and  here  is  the  foundation  of  all 
society:  father,  mother,  sister,  brother, — here  was  woven  the 
first  circle  of  human  sympathy; — and  this  primal  necessity 
has  led  on  the  development  of  humanity  into  communities 
and  nations,  and  every  form  of  association  which  appears  in 
the  history,  and  marks  the  progress  of  the  race. 

Isolated  being  is  isolated  ideas,  and  isolated  ideas  must 
prove  unproductive.  Mind  no  less  than  matter  finds  increase 
in  reciprocal  duality.  The  solitary  being  may  commune  with 

M202116 


th'e  heavens  and  the  earth,  and  ideas  within  find  their  em- 
bodyment  without;  but  when  it  is  found,  it  must  be  spoken 
out  in  a  description — a  science — or  an  emotion.  But  it  can- 
not be  uttered  to  the  empty  air — there  must  be  a  hearing 
ear — an  understanding  mind — a  living  heart,  to  which  to 
communicate,  and  from  which  to  gain  a  response. 

To  think  without  speaking,  would  seem  an  impossibility; 
to  speak  to  ourself  alone,  an  absurdity.  To  gain  knowledge 
to  rest  forever  with  ourself,  would  be  like  making  one's  bed 
forever  on  a  golden  rock.  To  plan  and  propose  any  improve- 
ment by  art  and  industry  to  be  shared  by  no  one,  would  be 
action  without  an  end — the  building  of  ships  without  com- 
merce, and  cities  without  inhabitants,  the  sowing  of  fields 
never  to  be  reaped,  the  moulding  of  beautiful  forms  with 
none  to  admire  them,  the  singing  of  epics  and  no  hearts  to 
be  moved  upon.  And  thought  itself  would  claim  the  critical 
judgment,  the  aid,  and  inspiration  of  other  thought;  and  the 
hand  of  industry  seek  to  link  itself  with  the  strength  and 
skill  of  some  other  hand. 

Is  not  society  then  all  and  in  all  to  us  ?  Do  we  not  live 
by  society — think,  labor,  improve  and  enjoy  by  society  ?  To 
be  alone  is  next  to  negation  of  being:  to  be  associated  is  the 
life,  power  and  completeness  of  being. 

Inanimate  matter  congregates  by  resistless  affinities;  or- 
ganic forms  grow  in  companies — the  trees,  the  flowers,  the 
herbage;  all  animals  are  in  families,  and  flocks,  and  pairs; 
the  stars  of  heaven  are  sown  in  clusters;  and  emotion,  pas- 
sion and  thought  run  into  fellowship  from  man  to  man,  from 
men  to  angels,  and  from  all  created  intelligences  to  God,  the 
creator  and  centre  of  all.  Thus  science,  the  useful  arts,  the 
beautiful  arts,  language,  poetry,  eloquence,  legislation,  ethics, 
and  religion,  all  imply  society,  and  grow  in  society. 

The  laws  of  society  are  necessary  and  eternal.  The  passive, 
unthinking  forms  of  being — organic  and  inorganic — cannot 
but  obey  these  laws.  But  man,  the  thinker  and  self-deter- 
miner, contemplates  them,  reasons  about  them,  measures  their 
relative  importance,  adjusts  their  relations  by  degrees,  se- 


lects  his  spheres  of  action  amid  a  wide  diversity,  conforms 
to  these  laws,  or  violates  them.  Hence  while  the  other  forms 
of  being  are  determined  into  society  in  necessary  spheres, 
man  may  be  truly  said  to  create  society  according  to  his  own 
thought  and  purpose,  wisely  or  unwisely — for  good  or  for  evil. 
The  history  of  man  is  a  history  of  the  principles  on  which  he 
has  created  society,  and  of  the  corresponding  developments. 

But  I  come  now  to  speak  of  only  one  form  of  association — 
association  for  science,  literature  and  art;  or,  simply,  associa- 
tion for  human  culture. 

With  some  solitary  thinker,  most  probably,  the  circle  of 
human  thought  began.  The  mystery  and  the  beauty  of  the 
world  led  to  philosophic  enquiry,  and  creative  art.  The  con- 
ceptions and  theories  started,  the  truths  gained,  the  work  of 
useful  improvement,  or,  of  beautiful  art  attempted,  attracted 
others  as  if  a  new  oracle  had  become  vocal.  Institutions  there 
were  not  to  make  scholars  and  artists;  but  scholars  and  artists 
had  first  to  grow  from  the  individual  teacher;  and  then  as 
they  multiplied  they  became  associated  in  schools  and  institu- 
tions. These,  by  a  concentration  of  mind  and  means,  multi- 
plied scholars  and  artists  more  rapidly,  gave  them  greater 
perfection  by  methodical  culture  and  the  influence  of  exam- 
ple, and  spread  wide  the  scholarly  and  artistic  spirit. 

There  are  three  stages  of  learned  and  artistic  association 
to  be  noticed:  The  primal  or  ancient;  the  middle,  or  ecclesi- 
astical and  scholastic;  and  the  modern.  The  first  embraces 
a  period  reaching  down  to  the  time  of  the  establishment  of 
the  religious  houses  of  Christianity;  the  second  embraces  the 
middle  ages  down  to  the  reformation;  and  the  third  begins 
with  the  reformation.  Each  stage  prepared  the  way  for  the 
succeeding;  and  each  has  its  marked  and  peculiar  character- 
istics. 

The  primal  stage  is  that  where  the  individual  thinker  or  artist 
becomes  the  centre  of  a  school.  Thoughts  of  God — the  great 
first  cause — of  the  constitution  of  the  universe,  of  human  duty 
and  destiny  stir  in  some  great  original  mind,  and  he  speaks 
out  his  thoughts  wherever  he  can  gain  a  hearing — in  the  pub- 


6 

lie  walks  and  groves,  in  the  market  place,  in  the  houses  of 
friends,  in  familiar  intercourse,  or  on  festal  occasions.  Thus 
Socrates  and  the  Stagyrite  taught  Those  who  habitually 
consorted  with  them  became  disciples,  in  turn  to  become 
teachers,  or  to  carry  out  the  great  principles  with  which  they 
became  imbued,  into  public  life.  School,  which  nowT  generally 
means  an  institution  of  learning,  derived  from  the  Greek 
Scholee,  that  is  leisure  or  time  removed  from  public  or  private 
business,  was  applied  to  designate  the  teacher  and  his  disci- 
ples, and  finally  his  peculiar  doctrines.  The  bustle,  interests, 
and  employments  of  ordinary  life  were  laid  aside  for  a  simple 
and  pure  devotion  to  thought,  for  enquiries  after  the  True,  thje 
Good,  and  the  Beautiful.  Thus  sprung  up  all  the  great 
schools  of  ancient  philosophy;  thus  were  men  taught  wisdom; 
thus  was  human  culture  carried  on;  thus  were  laid  the  foun- 
dations of  all  knowledge  and  all  education.  It  was  a  sponta- 
neous association  of  great  minds  aspiring  after  the  highest 
objects  that  can  be  proposed  to  man.  The  same  individuality 
marks  the  poets,  the  artists,  the  historians,  and  the  orators  of 
antiquity.  Each  formed  himself  by  individual  effort,  under 
the  inspirations  of  his  own  genius,  availing  himself  of  the- 
knowledges  which  were  accessible,  studying  the  examples 
which  were  presented,  seizing  the  occasions  which  were  offer- 
ed, moulding  language,  and  developing  forms  of  beauty  with 
an  originality  which  could  belong  only  to  a  period  when  the 
hum  an  mind,  awakening  to  a  consciousness  of  its  powers  un- 
der the  great  eye  of  nature,  instead  of  finding  authorities  in 
the  past,  was  driven  in  upon  itself  and  created  authorities  for 
the  future,  and  like  a  discoverer  in  regions  untrodden  before, 
wandered  freely  abroad  in  joyful  expectation  of  wonders  of 
truth  and  beauty. 

It  is  true  indeed  that  in  pure  science,  principles  became 
fixed,  that  language  attained  to  an  acknowledged  perfection, 
that  art  gained  a  standard  of  taste  and  rules  of  execution,  and 
that  the  doctrines  of  the  older  schools  of  philosophy  exerted  an 
influence  upon  those  which  came  after  them.  But,  neverthe- 
less, in  the  Grecian  mind,  at  least,  the  possibility  of  originality 


was  never  doubted,  nor  fresh  thought,  nor  fresh  efforts  at  cre- 
ative art  oppressed  by  venerable  and  unquestionable  authori- 
ties. There  were  then  no  Doctors  of  the  Sorbonne. 

In  the  latter  period  of  Greece,  and  during  the  classic  age  of 
Rome,  the  Schools  of  Philosophy,  and  particularly  the  Schools 
of  the  Rhetoricians  exhibit  some  approximation  to  the  form  of 
institutions  of  learning,  with  a  formula  of  education  ;  but  still 
the  individual  teacher  created  his  own  school  and  formed  its 
centre.  Cicero  studied  Plato  and  Demosthenes,  but  he  resort- 
ed to  no  university ;  he  was  taught  by  Roscius,  but  in  no  pub- 
lic gymnasium.  Yirgil  imitated  the  Iliad,  but  he  caught  the 
epic  fire,  and  gained  the  majesty  and  grace  of  the  hexameter 
from  the  discipline  of  no  Homeric  Institute.  In  forming  an 
estimate  of  the  learned  men  and  artists  of  antiquity,  we  must 
think  of  original  genius,  self-made  men,  individual  efforts,  in- 
dependent thoughts  and  aims,  and  the  voluntary  association 
of  men  naturally  influencing  each  other  by  conversation,  cor- 
respondence, daily  example,  and  the  courtesies  of  social  life. 
We  must  forget  our  modern  ideas  of  educational  institutions 
established  by  the  State,  or  sustained  by  patronage  and  power. 
In  that  primal  stage,  education  could  appear  in  no  other  form 
for  the  idea,  of  education  was  then  in  process  of  development, 
and  the  materials  of  education  were  accumulating.  ' 

And  as  there  were  not,  properly  speaking,  institutions  of 
learning,  so  there  was  not  any  system  of  public  and  general 
education.  The  people  heard  poems  recited  by  strolling  rhap- 
sodists,  and  by  actors  in  the  theatre ;  they  heard  histories 
read  at  the  public  games  ;  they  heard  the  orators  in  the  pub- 
lic assemblies  ;  they  might  listen  to  the  discourse  of  philoso- 
phers in  the  public  places  ;  and  they  every  where  contemplated 
proportion,  majesty,  and  beauty,  in  the  temples  and  statues 
which  adorned  their  cities  and  the  seats  of  religious  worship. 
It  was  an  education  through  the  ear  and  the  eye ;  through 
national  customs,  and  religious  ceremonies  ;  through  legend 
and  story  ;  through  monuments  of  national  glory,  and  the 
proud  associations  of  places  connected  with  heroic  deeds.  It 
was  a  moulding  of  the  character  through  sentiments,  emo- 
tions, and  passion,  infused  and  quickened  by  the  objects  and 


8 

incidents   of  their  daily  lifer  where  the  objects  and  inci- 
dents were  created  and  ordered  by  the  genius,  taste,  and 
activity  of  the  presiding  minds  which  dwelt  in  a  higher  sphere. 
Wisdom,  beauty,  poetry,  and  music  dwelt  first  of  all  upon 
Olympus,  thence  they  descended  to  dwell  at  Delphi,  and  upon 
the  Acropolis:  their  priests  and  representatives  were  a  god-like 
order  of  men;  and  through  them  the  whole  people  felt  the 
influence  of  the  heavenly  visitation.    Such  was  the  beauty  ? 
poetry,  and  heroism  of  the  life  of  the  Greeks,  that  their  my- 
thology seems  almost  to  be  established  by  the  facts  of  their 
history,  so  naturally  consequential  was  the  one  upon  the  other. 
The  cultivated  class  among,  the  Romans  assimilated  to  the 
cultivated  class  among  the  Greeks,  and  their  education  pro- 
ceeded by  the  same  means;  but  the  Eoman  people  never  im- 
bibed the  Athenian  spirit  of  letters  and  art,  and  never  reached 
the  Athenian  polish  and  grace.    The  shadow  of  Olympus  did 
not  stretch  itself  to  the  banks  of  the  Tiber.     But  the  Roman, 
no  less  than  the  Athenian,  formed  a  strong  national  character 
through  legend  and  story,  through  the  associations  of  places- 
and  proud  historical  recollections,  and  through  the  influence 
of  political  institutions. 

Education,  among  the  ancients,  viewed  as  a  process,  was 
varied,  undetermined,  independent,  often  accidental^  and 
strongly  individual;  and  in  its  diffusion  took  the  ease  and 
freedom  of  social  life  instead  of  that  cloistered  seclusion  and 
disciplinary  movement  which  are  so  familiar  to  us.  As  a  re- 
sult, it  presents  us  men  of  the  highest  powers  under  a  noble 
culture;  a  civilized  people  wonderful  for  thought,  imagination,, 
and  taste,  or  a  people  of  stern  and  lofty  nationalism;  works 
in  literature  and  art,  which,  unsurpassed  if  not  unequalled, 
have  long  since  been  acknowledged  by  mankind  as  models 
which,  can  never  lose  their  authority,  and  can  never  cease  to 
instruct;  many  important  truths  in  pure  science,  and  valuable 
researches  in  physics ;  and  speculations  in  philosophy,  imonorta! 
as  thought  itself. 

In  this  early  association  of  thought  and  of  artistic  labor,, 
we  find  the  fountains  of  our  own  cultivation,  and.  civilization* 


9 

It  was  the  fresh  morning  of  human  development,  when  meth- 
od and  system  were  not  yet  attained,  when  knowledge  remain- 
ed unripe  and  gave  promises  to  the  future;  but  it  left  truths, 
examples,  and  memorials  which  have  ever  controlled  human 
progress,  and  can  never  be  forgotten. 

These  solitary  thinkers  with  their  few  disciples — these  poets, 
historians,  and  orators  in  the  simple  strength  of  their  genius — 
these  artists,  working  out  the  ideal  conceptions  of  their  own 
minds,  were  the  only  educators  of  the  day  in  which  they  lived, 
and  they  have  ever  remained  the  educators  of  mankind. 
What  would  antiquity  be  without  these  but  a  barren  waste  ? 
We  would  have  a  spectacle  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  dynasties, 
the  march  of  armies,  the  tumult  of  battle,  and  the  glory  of 
conquest:  we  might  have  also  useful  arts,  and  commerce,  and 
wealth,  leading  on  a  barbaric  magnificence.  But  now  that 
they  have  passed  away,  what  would  they  be  to  us  but  a  story 
or  a  dream — a  Babylon,  a  Tyre,  a  Carthage,  to  fill  a  page  of 
history,  but  leaving  nothing  behind  to  inspire,  to  elevate,  to 
improve  mankind?  The  very  wars  of  the  classic  nations 
have  an  interest  beyond  all  others,  because  they  exhibit  the 
struggles  of  civilization  against  barbarism: — They  are  the  he- 
roic defending  the  true,  the  good,  and  the  beautiful.  The 
labors  of  Genius  have  given  immortality  to  these  nations. 
The  poetry,  the  philosophy,  the  eloquence,  the  histories,  the 
splendid  works  of  art  still  survive.  The  memory  and  influence 
of  these  nations  are  imperishable,  because  they  continue  to 
teach  us  great  truths,  to  hold  up  before  us  the  most  perfect  mod- 
els of  literary  production  and  of  the  beautiful  arts,  and  to  in- 
spire us  with  enthusiasm  for  intellectual  culture  and  refinement. 

Of  what  peculiar  interest  or  value  to  us  are  the  stories  of 
the  Heraclidse,  of  the  kings  and  chieftains  who  went  to  the 
sack  of  Troy,  of  gods,  demigods,  and  kings,  and  of  all  the  va- 
rious characters,  mythological  or  historical,  asssociated  with 
the  little  country  of  Greece  ?  Or  of  what  peculiar  interest 
and  value  is  Greece  itself?  There  are  other  countries  whose 
natural  features  and  productions  might  interest  us  equally  or 
even  more:  Other  nations  too,  have  their  mythologies  and 
heroic  legends,  and  stories.  See  you  not  that  it  is  the  genius 


10 

of  Homer  and  the  dramatic  poets,  and  of  artists  like  Phidias 
and  Praxitiles,  calling  into  life  from  these  crude  and  rough 
materials  forms  of  matchless  beauty;  weaving  into  matchless 
verse,  or  expressing  in  marble,  incidents  and  events  tender 
and  heroic,  and  connected  with  all  the  deep  principles  and 
passions  of  human  nature,  illustrating  government  legisla- 
tion social. life  and  divine  providence  and  justice — see  you 
not  that  it  is  this  that  has  given  interest  and  value  to  what 
otherwise  could,  at  most,  only  amuse  a  vacant  hour — working 
out  from  ordinary  materials-,  ideal  beauty,  grandeur  and  truth, 
to  charm  and  instruct  the  human  mind  forever  ?  And  when 
we  add  to  these  the  unsurpassed  works  of  philosophers,  ora- 
tors, and  historians,  we  comprehend  why  men  of  every  form 
of  culture  should  look  to  Greece  as  the  fatherland  of  civiliza- 
tion and  education. 

The  Koman  Empire  with  its  majesty  and  power  was 
an  impressive  spectacle — so  was  the  the  Persian—^so  is  the 
Chinese  and  the  Russian.  But  the  Dictators,  Triumvirs, 
and  Caesars  of  the  Ancient  Empire,  viewed  alone,  have  for 
us  little  more  interest  than  the  Emperors  and  Czars  of  the 
modern  dynasties.  Greece  perpetuated  in  Koine— Roman 
legislation,  literature,  art,  and  eloquence — Roman  civilization 
and  culture  draw  forever  the  heart  of  humanity  towards  the 
city  of  the  seven  hills. 

And  thus  in  contemplating  this  primal  period,  \ve  are  taught 
at  once  the  great  truth,  that  the  life  of  nations  no  less  than 
the  life  of  individuals,  is  important  to  the  world,  and  survives 
in  the  memory  and  veneration  of  after  times,  only  as  connect- 
ed with  the  progress  of  knowledge,  the  development  of 
thought,  the  cultivation  of  taste,  improvement  in  arts,  and,  in 
general,  with  the  advancement  of  the  spiritual  interests  of  man. 

In  proceeding  to  the  second  stage  of  learned  association 
and  educational  development,  it  is  necessary  to  remark  that 
in  a  general  and  rapid  review,  like  the  present,  it  is  not  pos- 
sible to  mark  with  exactness  the  transition  from  one  stage  to 
the  other.  Indeed,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  it  must  have 
been  gradual,  extending  through  centuries,  appearing  under 
different  phases,  and  with  more  or  less  distinctness. 


11 

First  of  all,  let  the  distinctive  characteristics  of  tlie  two 
stages  be  clearly  borne  in  mind: — the  first  presents  the  inde- 
pendent teacher  going  forth  to  utter  what  he  conceived  to  be 
truths,  as  he  best  could,  under  no  legal  authority,  and  con- 
nected with  no  incorporated  society  or  institution.  The  phi- 
losopher and  the  poet  were  equally  free,  and  impelled  alike 
by  the  simple  power  of  original  thought  and  the  inspiration 
of  genius.  The  Greek,  particularly,  had  every  thing  within 
himself.  His  own  language,  the  most  perfect,  perhaps,  ever 
used  by  man,  was  sufficient  for  him,  and  he  cultivated  no 
other:  and  whatever  hints  he  may  have  received  from  other 
nations,  through  some  travelling  philosopher,  he  passed  so  far 
beyond  them,  and  exhibited  such  independence  in  his  think- 
ing, that  they  are  scarcely  to  be  regarded  as  elements  of  his 
system.  Such  hints  have  little  more  relation  to  Grecian  phi- 
losophy than  the  letters  of  Cadmus  to  the  dramas  of  -*Es- 
chylus. 

In  the  second  stage,  there  appears  the  necessity  of  referring 
to  the  past,  and  becoming  acquainted  with  what  the  human 
mind  had  already  successfully  achieved.  There  were  culti- 
vated languages  to  be  learned,  master  works  in  literature  and 
art  to  be  studied,  systems  of  philosophy  to  be  examined,  and 
scientific  truths  to  be  acquired.  The  Roman  could  not  be  as 
original  as  the  Greek,  and  had  first  to  become  a  scholar  ere 
he  could  be  a  philosopher,  poet,  or  orator. 

The  classic  period  of  Rome  added  still  more  to  the  mass  of 
philosophical  and  literary  material,  and  imposed  upon  subse- 
quent ages  the  necessity  of  a  still  wider  erudition.  And  when 
the  Latin  itself  ceased  to  be  a  living  tongue,  or  existed  only 
in  a  degenerated  and  corrupted  form,  two  classical  languages 
instead  of  one  had  to  be  acquired  as  the  necessary  portals 
to  those  treasures  of  thought  and  beauty  which  the  genius  of  the 
ancients  had  created,  and  which  were  henceforth  to  lead  the 
way  of  profound  and  elegant  culture. 

!New  and  powerful  elements  of  intellectual  development 
had  also  been  introduced  with  the  Christian  religion.  The 
great  author  of  this  religion  taught  after  the  manner  of  the 


12 

ancient  philosophers,  but  with  a  perfection  and  power  which 
surpassed  them  all.  He  taught  every  where — in  the  temple 
and  in  the  synagogue,  in  the  highways  and  in  the  open  fields, 
or  in  private  dwellings  amid  the  informality  of  social  con- 
verse. He  taught  with  the  freest  method,  and  used  the  most 
familiar  illustrations,  and  yet  he  taught  such  doctrines  as  had 
never  been  heard  before.  He  organized  no  schools;  he  sim- 
ply taught.  Mightier  than  the  Sibyls,  while,  like  them,  he 
seemed  to  scatter  his  truths  to  the  winds,  he  securely  planted 
them  in  human  hearts,  and  nursed  a  power  destined  to  over- 
throw the  old  religions,  revolutionize  social  organization,  and 
regenerate  the  world.  With  his  Apostles,  organization  began, 
and  the  Church  was  instituted.  At  first,  simple  associations, 
scattered,  and  more  or  less  independent,  appeared.  The  or- 
ganization itself  seemed  a  spontaneous  growth  from,  the  sa- 
cred affinities  created  by  a  common  faith  and  hope,  com- 
mon dangers  and  exigencies,  and  common  duties.  From  this 
unostentatious  beginning  arose  a  vast  ecclesiastical  system, 
with  a  mighty  hierarchy,  which  spread  itself  over  the  Roman 
Empire,  and  finally  took  possession  of  the  throne  of  the  Caesars. 

With  Christianity  there  grew  up  a  new,  peculiar,  and  ex- 
tensive literature.  There  were  first  the  sacred  writings; 
then  the  epistles,  homilies,  polemics,  and  theologies  of  the 
fathers.  Theology  took  a  two-fold  form — the  orthodox  and 
the  heretical.  Both  allied  themselves  to  philosophy;  the 
first  basing  itself  upon  the  sacred  writings,  called  in  philoso- 
phy as  an  adjunct  authority,  and  to  aid  in  interpretation  and 
exposition:  the  second,  basing  itself  upon  some  favorite 
philosophy,  sought  to  mould  the  sacred  writings  to  its  dogmas. 
Christianity,  a  doctrine  of  God,  of  duty,  and  of  immortality, 
swept  over  the  whole  field  of  philosophy,  and  connected  itself 
with  the  profoundest  and  most  momentous  questions  that  can 
agitate  the  human  soul. 

The  study  of  languages,  antiquities,  philosophy,  and  rhet- 
oric, seemed  involved  in  the  inculcation  and  progress  of  this 
religion.  It  was,  in  truth,  a  great  system  of  teaching,  where 
each  society  or  church  became  a  school,  and  the  priest  or  min- 


13 

ister  a  public  instructor.  And  as  copies  of  the  sacred  writ- 
ings were  multiplied,  readers  would  naturally  increase,  and 
the  value  of  the  art  of  reading  be  correspondingly  enhanced. 
That  education,  therefore,  should  under  Christianity  be  diffus- 
ed among  the  people,  and  take  the  form  of  institutions,  and 
adopt  a  determined  method,  was  an  inevitable  result.  Could 
this  religion  have  preserved  its  original  simplicity  and  purity, 
and  remained  disconnected  with  pride,  ambition,  and  power, 
it  might,  perhaps,  in  its  natural  quiet  movement,  have  given 
birth  to  a  system  of  universal  education,  and  advanced  all 
sciences  and  arts,  at  the  same  time  that  it  was  accomplishing 
the  spiritual  regeneration  of  society.  But  even  as  actually 
developed,  we  shall  see  how  close  and  important  was  its  con- 
nection with  the  advancement  of  knowledge  and  the  rise  of 
institutions  of  learning. 

For  centuries  before  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  luxury 
had  produced  effemiancy  with  all  its  attendant  vices.  The 
decay  of  national  spirit,  of  virtue  and  manliness  has  ever 
marked  the  deterioration  of  letters  and  the  arts;  and  thus  the 
fall  of  the  empire  was  preceded  by  the  disappearance  of  all 
that  had  signalized  and  graced  the  Augustan  age.  But  this 
was  the  very  period  during  which  the  patristic  literature  had 
been  accumulating.  And  when  the  barbarians  had  finally 
completed  their  conquest  followed  by  the  almost  total  loss  of 
classical  learning,  although  the  church  was  not  exempt  from 
the  prevailing  ignorance,  still  the  Latin  language  was  pre- 
served in  her  canons  and  liturgies,  and  in  the  Vulgate,  so  that 
whatever  of  learning  remained  was  found  for  the  most  part 
in  the  Church. 

The  leading  Ecclesiastics,  indeed,  cherished  the  strongest- 
prejudices  against  secular  learning.  Gregory  I.,  the  founder 
of  papal  supremacy,  directed  all  his  authority  against  it,  and 
is  even  reported  to  have  committed  to  the  flames  a  library  of 
heathen  authors.  In  some  monastic  foundations,  the  perusal 
of  the  works  of  heathen  authors  was  forbidden.  Nevertheless, 
the  tenacious  adherence  of  the  clergy  to  the  Latin  liturgy,  and 
to  the  Vulgate  translation  of  the  Scriptures,  and  their  implicit 


submission  to  the  Fathers,  in  preserving  the  Latin  language, 
preserved  the  very  records  of  that  literature  which  they  neg- 
lected and  contemned.  Another  circumstance,  too,  and  that 
perhaps  purely  accidental,  contributed  still  more  to  the  pres- 
ervation of  classical  literature.  The  order  of  St.  Benedict,  so 
widely  diffused  through  the  Church,  were  enjoined  by  their 
founder  to  read,  copy,  and  collect  books,  without  any  specifi- 
cation as  to  their  character,  probably  presuming  that  they 
would  be  religious  books.  They  obeyed  the  injunction  literally, 
and  classical  manuscripts  were  collected,  and  copies  multi- 
plied. 

It  thus  came  to  pass  that  monastic  institutions  became  the 
great  conservatories  of  books,  and  the  means  of  multiplying 
them.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  too,  however  we  may  be  op- 
posed to  the  institution  of  monasticism,  that  during  centuries 
of  intellectual  darkness  and  barbarism,  when  war  formed  the 
chief  employment  of  men  who  sought  for  distinction,  the 
monasteries  became  the  quiet  retreats  of  the  gentler  and  more 
elevated  spirits  who  wished  to  escape  from  the  violence  of  the 
world,  and  to  engage  in  the  genial  pursuits  ot  literature  and 
philosophy.  The  scholar  became  of  necessity  an  ecclesiastic. 
"We  cannot  be  surprised,  therefore,  that  schools  of  learning 
sprung  up  under  the  shadow  of  convents  and  cathedrals. 
One  feature  distinguished  the  Church  even  in  the  dark  ages — 
let  it  be  remembered  to  its  honor — which  peculiarly  adapted 
it  to  foster  the  interests  of  learning,  and  to  raise  up  learned 
men;  in  awarding  its  benefits,  in  bestowing  its  honors,  it  paid 
no  respect  to  rank:  to  it,  the  noble  and  the  peasant  were  un- 
distinguished; and  from  the  lowest  grades  of  society  might 
arise  the  successor  of  St.  Peter,  to  set  his  foot  upon  the  neck 
of  Kings  and  Emperors.  Here  then  was  opened  to  the  peo- 
ple the  possibility  of  social  elevation  and  power,  and  here 
simple  genius  and  learning  might  hope  to  escape  frem  obscu- 
rity and  gain  the  loftiest  stations. 

There  is  but  one  parallel  case.  In  the  Italian  cities  the  mu- 
nicipal judges  were  chosen  from  among  the  body  of  the  citi- 
zens; and  so  rapid  was  the  rotation  of  office,  that  every  citizen 


15 

might  hope  in  his  turn  to  participate  in  the  government. 
Now  it  is  remarkable  that  the  study  of  Roman  Jurisprudence 
was  revived  to  such  a  degree  at  Bologna  that  a  famous  Uni- 
versity sprang  up,  and  the  only  one  that  can  dispute  with  the 
Universities  of  Oxford  and  Paris  the  claim  to  the  earliest  an- 
tiquity. In  both  instances,  it  was  the  removal  of  the  inter- 
dicts which  every  where  else  debarred  the  people  from  all 
hope  of  advancement,  that  quickened  the  ambition  of  learn- 
ing. Nature  hath  ever  her  own  noblemen  whom  she  will  set 
forward,  unless  arbitrary  institutions  prevent. 

The  first  schools,  after  the  barbarians  had  completed  the 
overthrow  of  the  Empire  and  of  all  imperial  institutions,  were 
merely  of  an  elementary  character,  and  were  established  by 
certain  Bishops  and  Abbots,  in  the  sixth  century.  These 
conventual  and  cathedral  schools  were  probably  at  first  de- 
signed for  neophytes,  to  fit  them  for  engaging  with  propriety 
in  the  church  service.  Their  benefits  however  were  not  con- 
fined to  these.  To  what  extent  these  schools  w^ere  multiplied, 
it  is  impossible  to  determine  with  exactness.  They  assumed 
a  higher  character  under  the  direction  of  eminent  men  such 

o 

as  Theodore,  Bede,  and  Alcuin.  Charlemagne  invited  the  lat- 
ter from  England,  in  connection  with  Clement  of  Ireland,  and 
Theodolf  of  Germany,  to  establish  or  restore  the  cathedral 
and  conventual  schools  in  France.  The  division  of  sciences 
which  obtained  in  them  is  remarkable.  The  first  was  the 
Trivium,  comprising  grammar,  logic,  and  rhetoric:  The  eec- 
oncl  was  the  Quadriviuin,  comprising  music,  arithmetic,  ge- 
ometry, and  astronomy.  Few  studied  the  Quaclrivium  at  all; 
and  the  instances  were  rare  where  the  Trwium  was  mastered. 
The  theological  aspect  which  was  given  even  to  these  studies,  is 
evident  from  the  fact  that  the  study  of  music  was  confined  to 
chanting  the  church  service,  and  astronomy  to  the  calcula- 
tion of  Easter. 

Jurisprudence  and  theology  were  the  two  governing  pow- 
ers of  educational  development,  which  gave  rise  to  Univer- 
sities. The  latter,  however,  was  the  chief,  and  is  mainly  to  be- 
considered. 


16 

Hitherto,  two  methods  of  theological  discussion  had  ob- 
tained. During  the  first  six  centuries,  we  have  the  method  of 
the  fathers — that  of  interpreting  the  Scriptures  by  their  own 
ability  and  skill,  and  by  the  decisions  and  traditions  of  the 
Church,  as  these  accumulated  from  century  to  century.  In 
the  eighth  century,  or  perhaps  earlier,  the  Fathers  were  them- 
selves received  as  authority  conjointly  with  the  Scriptures 
and  the  decisions  of  the  Church. 

But  the  establishment  of  cathedral  and  conventual  schools 
could  not  but  advance  human  thought.  Scholars  of  more  or 
less  eminence  were  found  scattered  through  the  middle  ages. 
Scholars  were  engaged  in  founding  and  perfecting  these 
schools,  and  gave  in  them  an  impulse  to  study.  A  taste  for 
philosophical  speculation  would  naturally  spring  up,  and  the 
very  study  of  the  Fathers  would  tend  to  foster  it.  The  logic 
of  Augustine  was  in  use;  this  was  followed  by  tbe  logic  and 
metaphysics  of  Aristotle,  although  at  first  opposed  by  Popes 
and  Councils. 

Questions  in  theology  naturally  ally  themselves  to  meta- 
phyisics;  and  polemics  as  naturally  call  in  the  aid  of  dialec- 
tics. Lanfranc  and  Anselm,  successively  Archbishops  of 
Canterbury,  made  use  of  metaphysical  ideas  as  well  as  of  the 
Aristotelian  dialectics,  in  their  controversy  with  Berenger  res- 
pecting trans  abstantiation.  Now  arose  a  new  method  of 
theological  discussion;  it  was  no  longer  a  simple  appeal  to  the 
Scriptures,  nor  an  appeal  to  the  Scriptures,  the  Fathers,  and 
the  decisions  and  traditions  of  the  Church  conjointly.  It  be- 
came now  an  appeal  to  Reason  also.  And  yet  it  was  not  an 
independent  appeal;  but  the  received  dogmas  remaining  un- 
questioned, Reason  was  bent  to  expound  and  fortify  them. 
"The  principle  of  the  Schoolmen,  in  their  investigations 
was  the  expanding,  developing,  and  if  possible,  illustrating 
and  clearing  from  objection  the  doctrines  of  natural  and  re- 
vealed religion,  in  a  dialectical  method  and  by  dint  of  the 
subtlest  reason.  The  questions  which  we  deem  altogether 
metaphysical,  such  as  that  concerning  universal  ideas,  became 
theological  in  their  hands." 


17 

The  founder  of  the  Schoolmen  and  of  the  scholastic  system, 
so  called  from  Scholce — the  schools  which  Charlemagne  open- 
ed, is  generally  received  to  be  Roscelin,  who  flourished  at  the 
close  of  the  llth  century.  He  revived  the  question  respect- 
ing universal  ideas,  and  with  him  commenced  the  celebrated 
controversy  between  the  Nominalists  and  Realists.  Three 
names  figure  at  the  beginning  of  this  controversy — Roscelin, 
the  Nominalist,  William  of  Champeaux,  the  Realist,  and 
Abelard,  who  endeavored  to  occupy  a  middle  ground.  The 
intense  interest  awakened  by  this  controversy,  and  the  multi- 
tudes who  waited  upon  the  discussions,  can  be  explained  only 
by  the  fact  that  a  new  field  was  opened  to  the  human  intel- 
lect and  the  authority  of  human  reason  brought  in.  It  was 
assumed,  indeed,  that  reason  should  not  transcend  the  dogmas 
of  faith,  and  there  was  always  professedly  a  submission  of  the 
former  to  the  latter:  but  the  charge  brought  against  the  nom- 
inalists of  subverting  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  by  reducing 
it  to  a  mere  nominal  unity  of  persons;  and  the  counter-charge 
brought  against  the  realists,  of  a  tendency  to  Atheism,  prove 
that  there  was  a  freedom  of  thought  and  language  indulged 
in  by  both  parties  which  could  not  be  restrained  within  the 
limits  of  theological  precision.  The  controversy  was  carried 
on  until  the  fifteenth  century,  when,  at  the  Revival  of  Letters, 
it  gave  place  to  objects  and  themes  more  closely  connected 
with  the  progress  of  knowledge,  and  the  improvement  of  the 
world.  Two  things  were  gained,  however,  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance, and  which  co-worked  to  the  same  end:  First,  the 
human  intellect  was  awakened,  and  a  taste  for  scholarship 
widely  diffused.  Secondly,  Universities  were  established. 

"William  of  Champeaux  opened  a  School  of  Logic,  in  Paris, 
in  1109.  The  dialectic  skill  and  the  graceful  eloquence  of 
Abelard,  drew  together  thousands  of  eager  disciples.  In  the 
School  of  William  of  Champeaux,  was  the  germ  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Paris,  for  with  it  commenced  a  regular  succession  of 
teachers.  The  lectures  of  Abelard,  both  when  delivered  iiu 
Paris  and  at  the  Paraclete,  from  the  enthusiasm  they  awak- 
ened, arid  the  numbers  they  collected,  were  a-  dazzling  exhibition 
2 


18 

of  the  power  of  oral  teaching  in  even  the  most  abstruse  sub- 
jects. In  both  there  was  something  like  a  return  to  the  method 
of  the  old  Grecian  Schools.  There  was  this  difference,  how- 
ever: The  ancient  philosophers  belonged  to  no  order,  and 
taught  with  the  utmost  freedom.  Champeaux  and  Abelard 
belonged  to  the  Church,  and  were  presumed  never  to  transcend 
its  dogmas.  Indeed,  it  would  not  have  been  lawful  for  them 
to  teach  a  pure  science,  that  is,  a  science  uncontrolled  by  the- 
ological ends  and  aims. 

From  the  time  of  Champeaux  and  Abelard,  school's  multi- 
plied in  Paris.  The  scholastic  discussions  seemed  to  have 
created  a  sort  of  dialectic  phrenzj.  About  the  middle  of  the 
twelfth  century,  the  influx  of  scholars  into  Paris  was  so  great 
that  they  were,  somewhat  extravagantly,  indeed,  said  to  out- 
number the  citizens.  Philip  Augustus  was  led,  sometime  af- 
ter this,  to  enlarge  the  boundaries  of  the  city  to  afford  them 
accommodations.  Students  flocked  from  foreign  countries. 
The  Faculty  of  Arts  in  Paris  was  divided  into  four  nations: 
France,  Picardy,  Normandy,  and  England.  In  1453,  there 
were  twenty-five  thousand  students  in  Paris.  Universities 
multiplied  also  in  other  countries.  Paris  was  distinguished 
for  Scholastic  Theology;  Bologna  for  Jurisprudence;  Salerno 
for  Medicine.  Ten  thousand  students  resorted  to  Bologna. 
At  Oxford,  in  the  time  of  Henry  III.,  the  number  of  students 
was  reckoned  also  by  thousands. 

Universities  became  distinct  corporations  by  Royal  Char- 
ters, and  the  Holy  See  threw  its  protection  around  them. 

But  what  was  the  peculiar  organization  of  these  institu- 
tions? They  differed  from  the  Greek  Schools  in  that  they 
were  a  collection  of  teachers  forming  one  incorporated  society. 
They  differed  from  the  Cathedral  and  Conventual  Schools,  in 
that  these  were  elementary  and  isolated,  while  the  Uni- 
versities aimed  at  the  highest  developments  of  knowledge, 
and  were  associations  for  the  purposes  of  learning,  embracing 
multitudes. 

The  Teachers  were  indifferently  oalled  Masters,  Doctors, 
and  Regents.  The  first  name  indicated  that  they  had  ct>m- 


19 

passed  the  arts,  and  thence  become  Masters  of  Arts;  the  sec- 
ond, that  they  were  qualified  to  teach  Philosophy;  the  third, 
that  they  had  authority  to  direct  Education. 

The  arts  comprised  the  Trivium  and  Quadrivium,  which 
included  together  seven  branches — Grammar,  Logic,  Rhetoric, 
Music,  Arithmetic,  Geometry,  and  Astronomy.  Philosophy 
was  divided  into  three  branches,  and  thence  called  the  three 
philosophies,  namely,  Theology,  Law,  and  Medicine.  A  par- 
ticular university,  however,  as  we  have  seen,  cultivated  fre- 
quently, in  an  especial  degree,  only  one  of  these  philosophies. 

According  to  the  statutes  of  Oxford,  ratified  by  Archbishop 
Laud,  there  were  four  faculties  in  which  the  University  fur- 
nished education  and  granted  degrees — Arts,  Theology,  Civil 
Law,  aud  Medicine: 

Four  years  attendance  on  the  lectures  of  the  first  faculty 
was  required  to  qualify  for  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts; 
and  seven  years  for  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts. 

To  commence  the  course  in  the  faculty  of  Theology,  a  mas- 
tership in  Arts  was  a  pre-requisite.  Seven  years  attendance 
on  the  lectures  qualified  for  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Divin- 
ity, and  four  more  years  for  the  degree  of  Doctor.  In  the  fac- 
ulty of  Civil  Law,  a  in-astership  in  Arts  was  not  a  pre-requisite: 
but  the  Master  obtained  the  Bachelor's  degree  in  Law  in  three 
years,  and  the  Doctor's  in  seven;  while  the  simple  student  was 
required  to  attend  five  years  for  the  first,  and  ten  for  the  second. 

In  Medicine,  a  mastership  in  Arts  was  a  pre-requisite;  and 
three  years  attendance  on  the  lectures  qualified  for  a  Bache- 
lor's degree  in  Medicine,  and  seven  for  a  Doctor's. 

Degrees  were  also  granted  in  particular  branches,  as  in 
Logic  and  Rhetoric.  In  Music,  a  separate  degree  is  given 
even  at  the  present  day. 

The  branches  embraced  by  the  Arts  were  multiplied  as  knowl- 
edge advanced.  Hence,  in  the  time  of  Liuid,  Greek,  Natural 
Philosophy,  Metaphysics,  Moral  Philosophy,  History,  and  He- 
brew arespecifiedin  addition  to  theseven  arts  before  mentioned. 

In  the  original  constitution  of  Paris  and  Oxford,  the  Uni- 
versity was  taught  and  governed  by  the  graduates  at  large 
— all  the  graduates  were  teachers.  Graduation  was  nothing 


20 

more  nor  less  than  a  formal  reception  into  the  body  of  Teach- 
ers comprising  the  University  Faculties. 

The  Bachelor  was  an  imperfect  graduate  admitted  to  exer- 
cise the  vocation  of  Teacher  partially  for  the  sake  of  improve- 
ment. Hence,  he  was  said  incipere,  to  commence  the  vocation ; 
and  the  commencement  ceremony  was  his  induction  into  office. 

The  Master,  or  perfect  graduate,  alone  could  regere — govern 
or  be  a  Kegent.  At  first  the  Teachers,  or  Masters,  received  fees 
from  their  pupils.  Afterwards,  to  certain  Masters,  salaries  were 
appointed,  and  these  gave  lectures  gratuitously.  All  graduates 
were  obligated  to  teach  during  a  certain  term,  and  privileged  to 
teach  perpetually,  also;  but  their  number  became  so  great  that 
accommodations  could  not  be  provided  for  all:  nor  were  the 
services  of  all  necessary.  The  term  of  Regency  was  there- 
fore often  abbreviated,  and  even  dispensed  with  altogether: 
but  the  University  could  com  pel  the  services  of  the  graduates, 
whenever  it  became  necessary  to  increase  tliQ  number  of 
Teachers.  The  salaried  Teachers,  too,  would  naturally  take 
precedence;  and  these,  together  with  others  whom  natural  in- 
clination and  peculiar  circumstances  led  to  select  the  vocation 
of  a  Teacher,  formed  a  permanent  body,  who  in  time  were 
called  Professors,  simply  from  the  fact  that  they  professed,  or 
addicted  themselves  to  certain  branches  of  instruction.  Thus 
Professor,  again,  became  identical  with  Master,  Doctor,  and 
Regent,  in  designating  a  certain  office.  In  time  the  number 
of  Professors  was  limited  by  statute,  and  when  others  besides 
the  regular  Professors  were  allowed  to  teach,  their  powers  and 
privileges  were  of  a  secondary  grade. 

The  Cathedral  and  Conventual  Schools  still  remained,  and 
other  schools  of  a  similar  grade  came  to  be  established  pri- 
vately, or  by  endowment.  All  these  were  preparatory  to  the 
University.  The  University,  we  perceive,  was  from  the  very 
beginning  an  association  of  learned  men,  whose  great  object 
was  the  advancement  of  all  knowledge,  and  of  the  highest  form* 
of  education.  Like  the  schools  of  the  ancients,  they  came  up 
spontaneously,  and  were  the  work  of  individuals,  and  not  of 
the  State.  Like  them,  too,  they  gave  instruction  orally;  mid 


21 

the  living  teacher  communicated  to  his  pupils  his  own  origi- 
nal researches  and  conceptions  expressed  with  the  force  and 
freedom  of  his  own  style  and  manner.  They  were  therefore 
the  legitimate  successors  of  the  former,  and  afford  a  remarka- 
ble proof  how  the  laws  which  govern  the  development  of  the 
human  mind  and  of  society  preserve  their  identity  through 
the  sweep  of  ages.  The  respects  in  which  they  differed  from 
the  ancient  schools  were  equally  legitimate.  They  became  a 
compact  association  of  schools,  because,  science  and  literature, 
now  developed  into  branches,  existing  in  multiform  works, 
assuming  fixed  principles,  and  represented  by  acknowledged 
standards,  constituted  a  denned  basis,  on  which  association 
was  possible.  The  same  causes,  also,  led  them  to  common 
methods  and  processes,  as  educational  institutions. 

After  Universities  had  come  into  existence,  they  received 
charters  from  the  State,  and  were  placed  under  the  protection 
a£  both  State  and  Church  ;  but  they  ever  maintained  and  ex- 
ercised, like  other  corporations,  their  own  rights  and  powers. 
They  elected  their  own  officers,  and  adopted  their  own  regula- 
tions, as  institutions  in  themselves  competent  to  discharge  the 
great  duties  they  had  undertaken.  They  were  not  the  work 
of  sciolists  and  empirics.  Created  by  great  men,  they  have 
ever  multiplied  scholars,  and  been  the  fountains  of  letters  and 
science,  and  of  modern  civilization. 

Popular  education  could  not  be  the  starting  point  of  educa- 
tion, for  the  ignorant  masses  are  of  necessity  incompetent  to 
plan  and  adopt  measures  for  their  own  improvement.  Indi- 
viduals elevated  above  their  age  and  the  people  around  them, 
by  superior  genius,  and  a  peculiar  inspiration  of  thought, 
called  out  by  circumstances  sometimes  extraordinary,  and 
often  accidental,  took  the  lead.  Homer  will  always  remain  a 
mystery  ;  and  yet  Greek  art,  letters  and  civilization  must  be 
referred  back  to  his  immortal  work  as  their  inception.  Socra- 
tes is  a  miracle  of  humanity,  and  stands  alone  ;  but  he  is  the 
acknowledged  father  of  an  undying  philosophy.  Bacon  was 
the  only  man  to  write  the  Instauration  of  the  Sciences,  and  the 


22 

Xovum  Organum.     Christianity  itself — the  divine  religion, 
made  its  advent  in  the  solitary  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 

From  the  solitary  poet,  philosopher  and  reformer,  proceeds 
the  quickening  and  regenerating  truth,  first  of  all,  to  be  re- 
ceived by  the  few.  Then  by  association  the  truth  gains  pow- 
er, is  widely  disseminated,  and,  finally,  permeates  the  masses 
of  society.  Such  is  the  progress  of  knowledge  and  education. 
The  first  period  shows  us  the  solitary  gaining  the  few.  The 
second  period  shows  us  the  beginning  of  association  prepara- 
tory to  the  universal  diffusion  of  knowledge.  The  third  pe- 
riod is  that  in  which  association  will  be  perfected,  and  the 
universal  diffusion  of  knowledge  take  place.  In  Universities 
we  have  the  association  which  in  the  end  creates  common 
schools,  or  schools  for  the  people. 

In  our  country,  when  attention  is  directed  to  the  higher  in-, 
stitutions  of  learning,  the  idea  and  title  of  a  college  always 
come  before  us.  The  title  university  is  sometimes  used,  and 
not  ^infrequently  is  applied  where  there  is  not  even  a  fully 
developed  college  ;  but  a  University,  properly  speaking,  as  it 
does  not  exist  among  us,  so  generally  no  adequate  conception  is 
ormed  of  it;  and  we  are  prone  to  speak  of  colleges  as  if  all  our 
wants  of  high  and  perfect  education  are  met  by  them  alone. 

It  would  probably  surprise  many  to  hear  it  affirmed  that 
colleges  originally  were  not  institutions  of  learning  at  all,  and 
are  wholly  unessential  to  a  university.  Their  origin  was  sim- 
ply as  follows  :  The  thousands  of  students  who  flocked  to  the 
great  universities  of  Europe  were  accommodated  with  board 
and  lodging  in  the  halls,  inns,  and  chambers  ;  while  the  pub- 
lic lectures  were  delivered  at  first  at  the  private  rooms  of  the 
professors,  and  afterwards  in  buildings  appropriated  to  that 
purpose.  Certain  streets  contained  these  buildings  :  Thus,  in 
Oxford,  in  School  street,  there  were  forty  buildings,  containing 
each  from  four  to  sixteen  class  rooms  :  In  Paris  the  four  na- 
tions of  the  Faculty  of  Arts  resorted  to  the  Rue  de  la  Fuoarre. 
A  scarcity  of  lodgings  arising  from  the  great  influx  of  stu- 
dents, the  exorbitant  demands  for  rent  consequent  upon  this, 
as  well  as  the  vices  to  which  students  were  exposed  in  large 


23 

cities,  led  benevolent  and  pious  individuals  to  establish  col- 
leges where  board  and  lodging  were  furnished  to  poor  stu- 
dents, arad  a  religious  supervision  and  discipline  instituted  for 
the  preservation  of  their  morals.  Colleges  were  therefore 
merely  accessories  to  the  universities. 

In  Italy  colleges  never  advanced  beyond  this.  In  Germany 
they  advanced  very  little,  and  never  sufficiently  to  modify  the 
system  of  education.  Here,  too,  they  have  entirely  disap- 
peared, the  name  Bursch — given  now  in  common  to  the  stu- 
dents, from  the  title  JBursar  originally  appropriated  to  those 
who  inhabited  collegiate  houses — being  the  only  memorial  of 
them  remaining. 

In  Paris,  Regents  taken  from  the  University  schools  were 
occasionally  appointed  to  lecture  in  the  colleges.  This  prac- 
tice in  time  became  so  general  that  the  public  rooms  were  de- 
serted for  tke  college  halls,  The  Theological  Faculty  confined 
their  lectures  almost  wholly  to  the  College  of  the  Sor bonne,  s  J 
that  the  Serboinne  and  the  Theological  Faculty  became  con- 
vertible titles.  In  the  fifteenth  century  the  faculty  of  arts 
was  distributed  through  eighteen  colleges.  In  the  colleges  of 
Faris,however,the  faculties  of  the  University  always  retained 
the  ascendency,  and  the  University,  instead  of  being  superse- 
ded, was  only  divided  into  parts.  Napoleon  really  restored  the 
integrity  of  the  University.  The  Sorbonne  still  remains,  but 
i&  occupied  by  the  four  faculties  of  Science,  Letters,  Law,  and 
Medicine.  The  College  of  France  still  remains,  but  in  its 
courses  and  appointments  is  absorbed  in  the  great  uuiversity 
system. 

In  England,  the  colleges  are  eleemosynary  lay  corporations, 
*;  wholly  subject  to  the  laws,  statutes  and  ordinances  which 
the  founder  makes,  and  to  the  visitors  whom  he  appoints." 
The  College  "  consists  of  a  head,  called  by  the  various  names 
of  Provost,  Master,  Kector,  Principal,  or  Warden,  and  of  a 
body  of  Fellows,  and  generally  of  Scholars,  also,  besides  vari- 
ous officers  or  serrants,  according  to  the  peculiar  nature  of  the 
foundation." 

The  Fellows  are  elected  generally  from  the  graduates  of  the 


college.  They  are  elected  for  life,  if  they  remain  unmarried,  or 
until  they  accept  some  other  appointment  inconsistent  with  the 
terms  of  the  foundation.  Rooms  are  assigned  them  in  the 
college,  together  with  board  at  the  commons.  They  receive 
also  a  stipend  varying  from  thirty  pounds  or  less,  to  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  pounds,  and  upwards.  No  duties  appear  to  bo 
positively  assigned  them,  but  as  they  generally  belong  to  the 
church,  it  is  presumed,  if  not  intended,  that  they  shall  addict 
themselves  to  theology. 

The  colleges  of  England,  like  those  of  the  continent,  were* 
originally  "  unessential  accessories  "  of  the  Universities.  The 
Universities  existed  before  they  were  founded — the  Universi- 
ties must  have  continued  to  exist  had  the  colleges  afterwards- 
been  abolished. 

In  England,  however,  a  portentous  change  came  over  the- 
universities  through  the  influence  of  the  colleges.  The  result 
is^  that  at  the  present  day  the  universities  exist  almost  wholly 
•  injname,  and  scarcely  exercise  any  function  beyond  that  of 
conferring  degrees.  The  instruction  has  gone  into  the  hands 
of  the  colleges,  and  is  conducted  by  the  fellows,  while  the- 
duties  of  the  professors  are  nominal.,  The  Universities  havey 
therefore,  really  retrograded  to  the  state  from  which  they 
had  centuries  before  emerged,  and  hence  have  become  again? 
a  collection  of  Cathedral  and  Conventual  Schools. 

Formerly  they  were  taught  by  eminent  professors  with  the 
freedom  and  originality  of  public  lectures.  'Now  they  are- 
taught  like  grammar  Schools,  by  tutors  who  are  often  juve- 
nile, who  have  been  elected  by  favoritism  or  by  chance,  and 
who  have  generally  achieved  no  distinction  and  are  unknown 
to  the  world  of  Science  and  Letters. 

Hence  the  English  Universities  have  remained  stationary; 
while  continental  Universities  have  reached  a  higher  develop- 
ment, and  have  entered  upon  a  new  and  more  glorious  era  of 
academical  existence. 

The  continental  Universities  have  identified  their  progress 
with  the  progress  of  Science.  The  English  are  not  yet  fully 
emancipated  from  the  spirit  of  Scholasticism. 


25 

Universities,  we  have  seen  were  an  advance  upon  the  an- 
cient Schools,  in  that  they  were  compact  associations  of  the- 
learned  for  the  two  great  objects  of  promoting  knowledge, 
and  of  determining  the  method  and  carrying  on  the  work  of 
Education.  In  form  and  aims  they  were  complete.  Hence, 
they  can  never  be  superseded.  But  we  come  now  to  a  third 
period  where  begins  what  we  may  call  the  culminating  stage 
of  learned  associaton  and  Educational  development. 

Universities,  we  say,  as  to  their  form  and  aims  were  com- 
plete; but  they  labored  under  manifold  incumbrances.  The 
spirit  of  the  ancient  Schools  was  more  free,  pure,  elastic  and 
productive  than  that  of  the  Universities,  although  they  had 
not  reached  the  proper  forms,nor  arrived  at  the  conception  of 
universal  Education.  A  union  of  the  two  was  necessary  to  a 
new  progress.  llt  was  necessary  that  philosophy  should  be  dis- 
enthralled from  Scholasticism;  that  thought  aiid  investigation 
should  be  disenthralled  from  ecclesiastical  prescription;  and 
that  Scientific  method  should  be  disenthralled  from  the  dicta* 
of  authority,  and  the  true  method  determined  in  the  spirit  of 
independence. 

Three  centuries  were  appropriated  to  this  work,  the  fif- 
teenth, sixteenth  and  seventeenth,  which  we  call  collectively,  the 
period  of  the  Keformation,  although  the  Reformation,  strictly 
speaking  occurred  in  the  sixteenth.  But  the  fifteenth  was 
preparatory  to  the  sixteenth,  and  the  seventeenth  was  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  preceding  century — the  carrying  out  of  its. 
spirit. 

The  taking  of  Constantinople  was  the  great  event  of  the  fif- 
teenth century.  This  drove  the  Greek  Literati  into  Europe. 
They  brought  with  them  the  Greek  language,  Greek  art,  lit- 
erature and  philosophy.  The  cloistered  scholastics  of  Europe. 
were  surprised  and  fascinated  by  beauty  of  form,  beauty  of 
poetic  conception,  imagery  and  verse,  and  by  the  various  tree 
and  brilliant  philosophies  of  the  classic  land  and  the  classic 
age.  The  dry  subtleties  of  Scholasticism  could  not  abide  a 
comparison  with  the  Socratic  dialogues;  and  the  Aristotle  of 
the  Schools;in  his  theological  dress  was  put  to  shame  and  ban- 


26 

islied  as  an  impostor  by  the  Aristotle  who  came  fresh  from  his 
native  clirne,  and  spoke  his  native  tongue. 

And  thus  Scholasticism  disappeared  never  to  return;  and 
Greek  philosophy,  multifarious  and  confused  indeed,  became 
for  a  time,  the  universal  enchantment. 

No  less  signal  in  the  sixteenth  century  was  the  destruction 
of  ecclesiastical  prescription  by  Luther,  the  man  of  the  Ee- 
formation.  The  authority  of  truth  and  of  God  supplanted 
the  authority  of  the  Church. 

In  Bacon  and  DesCartes  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  cen- 
turies are  united.  Leibnitz  and  Locke  belong  to  the  seven- 
teenth. Four  illustrious  names  are  these.  With  them  was 
born  the  spirit  of  intellectual  independence.  They  cover  the 
whole  field  of  philosophy.  Bacon  and  Locke  were  of  the 
sensualistic  School;  DesCartes  of  the  Idealistic;  and  Leibnitz 
attempted  to  harmonize  the  two.  But  they  all  agreed  in  re- 
belling against  authority,  in  proclaiming  freedom  of  thought, 
and  in  seeking  a  basis  for  science  in  fact  and  demonstrated 
truth  alone. 

The  Novum  Organum  of  Bacon  particularly  is  regarded  as 
introducing  that  new  era  of  scientific  investigation  whose 
splendid  results  we  are  daily  witnessing. 

It  was  inevitable  that  this  threefold  disenthrallment  should 
exert  an  influence  upon  the  Educational  System.  It  was  just 
what  was  required  to  perfect  it.  The  progress  of  knowledge 
and  education  exert  upon  each  other  a  reciprocal  influence. — 
One  cannot  advance  without  the  other. 

There  have  been  just  three  things  accomplished  in  respect 
to  Education.  First,  the  erection  of  new  associations  as  com- 
plements of  the  University.  Secondly,  the  perfection  of  the 
University  system  of  discipline.  Thirdly,  the  development 
of  a  system  of  popular  education. 

The  first  we  find  in  the  special  associations  which  have  been 
framed  for  promoting  the  Arts  and  Sciences,  such  as  the  Eoy- 
al  Academy  of  London,  the  Eoyal  Society  of  London,  the 
Eoyal  Academy  of  Berlin,  and  the  Institute  of  France.  Asso- 
ciations more  or  less  approximating  to  European  Academies 


27 

begin  to  appear  in  oar  own  country.  The  Royal  Society  of 
London  was  established  on  the  plan  of  Bacon,  first  at  Oxford 
in  1645;  eighteen  years  afterwards  it  was  removed  to  London. 
The  Royal  Academy  of  Berlin,  was  planned  and  founded  by 
Leibnitz.  He  was  its  first  President,  and  edited  the  first  vol- 
ume of  its  transactions.  We  call  these  academies  com- 
plements to  the  University,  for  this  reason:  Composed  of  the 
most  eminent  scholars,  they  devote  themselves  exclusively  to 
one  function  of  the  University  in  relation  to  Science  and  Art, 
namely, — investigation  and  discovery;  and  add  to  this  the 
publication  of  the  latest  results.  This  function  is  thus  rend- 
ered more  efficient;  while  the  University,  proper,  devotes  itself 
more  particularly  to  the  work  of  Education. 

In  proceeding  to  consider  the  modern  development  of  the 
University  system,  we  cannot  fail  to  remark  that  the  inde- 
pendent spirit  and  the  freedom  of  the  ancient  schools  have  come 
to  be  united  with  the  university  organization  of  the  model 
age,  through  the  threefold  disenthrallrnent  already  pointed  out; 
and  Education  is  now  conducted  in  the  light  of  that  legiti- 
mate philsophy  which  has  taken  the  place  of  scholasticism,  is 
is  no  longer  burthened  by  ecclesiastical  prescription,  and 
emancipated  from  mere  authority,  has  attained  the  method 
and  aims  of  a  determinate  science.  We  do  not  say  that  this 
revolution  is  complete  and  universal  ;  but  it  has  advanced  so 
far  in  the  most  illustrious  and  influential  universities,that  very 
perfect  models  already  exist,  and  the  ultimate  and  complete 
triumph  cannot  be  far  distant. 

There  are  three  thiags  to  be  considered  in  an  educational 
system  :  1.  The  natural  order  of  the  development  of  the  hu- 
man faculties  ;  2.  The  studies  best  adapted  to  this  order  in 
advancing  from  one  stage  to  another  ;  3.  How  far  education 
should  be  prescribed  as  a  discipline;  and  when  it  should  be 
exchanged  for  free  and  independent  study  where  knowledge 
is  the  object,  and  culture  the  necessary  attendant. 

The  University  relates  to  the  last.  The  mind  is  presumed 
to  have  received  a  discipline,  by  which,  having  gained,  an 


.       28 

insight  into  method,  it  can  now  freely  go  out  in  search  of 
knowledge,  and  with  wise  discrimination  avail  itself  of  the 
abundant  means  and  appliances  provided  in  the  University, 
quickened  and  aided  by  the  voice  of  the  living  teacher,  lead- 
ing the  way  in  investigation  and  thought.  Examination  of 
books,  original  investigations,  hearing  the  teacher  and  con- 
ducting disputations  witli  him — these  constitute  the  employ- 
ments of  the  University.  Disputation  is  essential,  for  it  leads 
to  a  more  perfect  analysis,  and  clears  away  difficulties.  So- 
crates' whole  method  was  one  of  disputation.  In  some,  at 
least,  of  the  universities  of  the  scholastic  age,  the  Professor  was 
bound  to  sit  after  he  had  delivered  his  lecture,  and  hear  and 
answer  objections.  Abelard  was  at  first  a  pupil  of  William 
of  Champeaux  ;  but  the  objections  of  the  pupil  seem  to  have 
confounded  the  master,  until  the  former  becoming,  in  turn,  a 
lecturer,  he  outran  his  master  in  celebrity  and  popularity. 

Both  the  ancient  schools  and  the  Universities  of  the  middle 
age  had  the  true  method.  Both,  however,  were  defective  in 
other  respects.  The  ancients  had  not  properly  a  preparatory 
discipline.  That  of  the  middle  ages  was  imperfect  as  to  the 
knowledges  taught,  and  by  the  want  of  an  orderly  and  philo- 
sophical progress — a  progress  graduated  to  the  constitution  of 
the  mind.  It  is  probable  that  the  introduction  of  teaching 
into  the  colleges  was  at  first  induced  by  the  want  of  a  proper 
preparation  for  the  university  lectures  on  the  part  of  the  resi- 
dents. 

The  ancients,  again,  were  without  organization.  The  middle 
age  had  organization,  but  was  without  true  freedom  of  thought. 

See  now,  what  has  been,  accomplished  in  the  modern  age! 
I  cannot  go  to  England  for  illustrations,  for  there  has  been  re- 
trogradation  instead  of  progress.  I  must  of  necessity  go  to 
France  and  Germany.  I  will  confine  myself  to  the  last,  for 
Germany  has  taken  the  lead  in  moderii|  university  develop- 
ment. In  Germany  we  find  a  science  of  Pedagogy,  and  in- 
stitutions based  upon  it.  Pedagogy  is  the  combined  result  of 
a  priori  psychological  determination,  of  observation  and  ex- 


29 

periment.  Psychology  gives  the  mental  faculties,  and  the 
natural  order  of  their  development ;  observation  confirms 
this  ;  experiment  tests  studies  and  method.  We  do  not  affirm 
that  pedagogical  science  is  perfected  ;  but  we  know  that  it  is 
in  progress  and  has  already  led  to  important  results.  "We 
&ee  these  results  in  the  schools  preparatory  to  the  university, 
and  in  the  University  itself.  The  limits  of  each  have  been  de- 
termined, and  their  proper  relation  revealed  ;  courses  of  study 
have  been  adjusted  to  the  human  faculties,  and  definite  peri- 
ods of  time  adjusted  to  the  courses  of  study.  Time  and  labor 
are  both  saved,  and  all  labor  is  made  productive.  A  boy 
having  gained  the  usual  and  necessary  rudiments  of  learning, 
at  some  seven  or  eight  years  of  age,  enters  upon  the  prepara- 
tory discipline.  The  whole  of  this  discipline  is  found  in  one 
institution — the  Gymnasium.  Here  classes  are  graduated,  ex- 
tending through  some  ten  years,  embracing  what  is  most 
needful  to  learn  within  that  time,  what  experiment  has  deter- 
mined it  is  possible  to  learn,  and  what  philosophically  consid- 
ered must  constitute  the  best  discipline  of  the  mind  up  to  the 
period  of  nascent  manhood.  Here  is  no  arbitrary  four  years 
course,  for  a  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts,  and  no  arbitrary 
seven  years  course  for  a  degree  of  Master  of  Arts.  These  de- 
grees are  abolished.  In  England,  the  attainment  of  a  degree 
Is  the  object  of  the  course.  In  Germany,  the  attainment  of  a 
•certain  discipline  connected  with  a  certain  amount  of  learning 
is  the  object  of  the  course.  The  degrees  were  instituted  in 
the  scholastic  age.  They  had  then  a  definite  meaning — they 
were  accredited  diplomas  of  the  public  teacher.  If  the  num- 
ber of  years  was  graduated  to  the  existing  state  of  knowledge, 
when  philology  was  crude,  when  science  was  in  its  infancy, 
and  when  scholasticism  reigned  supreme,  with  what  propriety 
can  that  number  be  retained  now,  when  all  is  changed,  and 
we  have  a  new  age  of  letters,  science  and  philosophy  ?  But 
the  graduation  had  not  even  this  merit;  on  the  contrary  it  was 
purely  mystical.  Seven  was  the  sacred  number  ;  hence,  seven 
was  made  to  embosom  the  arts,  and  to  express  the  years  for 
their  acquisition.  If  the  mystical  number  of  arts  be  cli«. 


30 

carded,  why  retain  the  mystical  number  of  years  1  And  we 
may  ask,  too,why  retain  the  degrees  which  were  the  exponents 
of  this  mystical  discipline? 

"Were  not  the  Germans  wise,  therefore,  when  scholasticism 
was  abolished,  in  abolishing  its  times  and  degrees  ? 

Mark  the  difference !  In  the  scholastic  age,  educational 
discipline  was  determined  mystically:  in  the  modern  age,  it 
is  determined  by  the  philosophy  of  mind,  by  observation  and 
experiment 

And  this  course  in  the  German  gymnasia  has  the  merit, 
too,  of  being  open  to  improvement,  as  the  science  of  peda- 
gogy advances — that  science  which  determines  the  proper  and 
ad  equate  preparations  for  free  and  independent  study,  and 
manly  self-discipline.  For  the  increase  in  the  number  of 
sciences,  for  the  wider  and  richer  unfolding  of  the  sciences, 
for  the  farther  sweep  of  all  human  knowledge,  provision  is 
made  in  the  University. 

We  perceive  then,  that  the  establishment  of  the  gymnastic 
preparatory  course  has  led  to  the  proper  development  of  the 
university.  Or  taking  the  actual  historical  order  of  develop- 
ment, instead  of  the  logical,  the  efforts  of  great  and  enlight- 
ened scholars  to  perfect  the  university,  forced  the  gymnasium 
into  existence.  See  now,  how  natural  and  beautiful  is  the  re- 
lation of  the  two!  In  the  gymnasium  the  student  serves  his 
apprenticeship  to  the  art  of  study.  But  the  art  of  study  is 
gained  in  the  act  of  studying,  that  is  as  knowledge  is  gained. 
But,  again,  the  branches,  by  the  study  of  which,  the  art  of 
study  is  gained,  are  those  which  are  preparatory  to  the  study 
of  all  science  fully  provided  for  in  the  university;  that  is 
of  languagds,  the  pure  and  mixed  sciences  in  their  funda- 
mental principles,  history,  criticism,  and  of  whatever  may  lie 
nt  the  basis  of  a  superstructure  of  knowledge  in  any  field 
open  to  the  human  intellect. 

Now  entering  the  university  not  by  presenting  a  diploma, 
but  through  the  ordeal  of  an  examination,  the  student  finds 
himself  qualified  to  read  hooks,,  to  investigate  subjects,  to  list- 


31 

en  to  learned  lectures,  to  engage  in  learned  discussions,  and  to 
carry  on  wisely  his  education,  whether  he  addict  himself  to  a 
profession,  to  any  particular  science,  or  aim  to  become 
himself  a  professor  in  any  of  the  faculties.  In  the  uni- 
versity the  opportunities  of  study  are  without  limit,  and  the 
student  may  be  a  student  all  his  life. 

"We  have  remarked  that  degrees  do  not  wait  upon  the 
course  of  study  pursued  in  the  gymnasium,  although,  that 
course  embraces  all  that  English  and  American  colleges  can 
pretend  to.  Indeed,  according  to  the  most  ancient  academ- 
ical laws  and  precedents,  the  university  alone  is  competent  to 
confer  degrees.  Even  in  England,  where  education  is  resigned 
into  the  hands  of  the  College,  the  University  alone  confers  de- 
grees. In  Germany  the  University  confers  degrees  also,  but 
sparingly,  specially,  and  never  upon  whole  classes.  "We  have 
already  stated  that  the  two  degrees  of  arts  are  abolished. — 
This  may  be  considered  as  consequent  upon  a  new  division  of 
the  subjects  of  study.  In  the  scholastic  age,  the  studies  be- 
longing to  the  three  learned  professions  were  termed  philoso- 
phies, and  all  other  studies  were  termed  arts.  In  Germany, 
the  studies  of  the  learned  professions  are  designated  by  the 
titles  of  the  three  corresponding  Faculties — theology,  lawr 
medicine;  and  all  other  studies  are  comprised  under  the  gen- 
eral title  of  philosophy,  with  a  corresponding  Faculty. 

In  philosophy  only  one  degree  is  conferred — that  of  Doctor 
uf  Philosophy.  This  is  conferred  upon  application  by  the 
candidate,  and  after  an  examination.  It  has  a  meaning,  since 
lie  who  receives  it,  is  deemed  qualified  to  commence  a  course 
of  lectures  in  the  university.  In  medicine  and  law  the  de- 
gree of  Doctor  is  conferred  upon  the  same  conditions  and 
implies  here  likewise  the  qualifications  and  privileges  of  a 
public  lecturer  in  the  respective  faculties.  Doctor  of  Theology 
is  purely  honorary,  and  is  conferred  rarely,  and  only  upon 
clergymen  of  very  high  distinction.  The  old  academical  law 
is  thus  preserved  in  the  German  universities,  by  which  a  mas- 
ter or  Doctor  is  entitled,  if  not  obligated  to  teach.  We  find 
.in  these  Universities  three  classes  of  teachers:  First,  the  or- 


dinary  and  salaried  professors;  second,  the  professors  extra- 
ordinary, or,  as  we  would  say,  assistant  professors,  who  re- 
ceive no  salary,  and  depend  upon  class  fees  alone;  third,  the 
mere  Doctors  in  the  different  faculties  who  commence  lectur- 
ing, and  who,  also,  receive  only  class  fees.  These  are  called 
Docentes  or  Teachers. 

A  German  University  is,  therefore,  an  association  of  schol- 
ars for  scientific  and  educational  purposes,  as  truly  as  the 
scholastic  Universities;  but  as  much  in  advance  of  the  latter, 
as  the  modern  world  is  in  advance  of  the  middle  ages  in  gen- 
eral intelligence  and  useful  improvements.  We  find  here  re- 
newed, the  freedom,  the  spirit,  the  ideal  conceptions  of  the 
Greek  schools;  we  find  preserved  in  full  energy  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  scholastic  Universities;  but,  in  addition  to  this, 
we  find  the  modern  University  placed  in  its  proper  relation 
as  the  culmination  of  a  grand  system  of  Education.  The  good 
of  the  past  is  preserved,  the  evils  are  eliminated,  the  imper- 
fections are  supplied,  and  the  unity  of  all  true  progress  is 
demonstrated. 

The  third  point  to  be  noticed  in  modern  educational  develop- 
ment is  popular  Education.  This  is  a  necessary  part  ot"  the 
educational  movement,  and  must  follow  the  proper  university 
development.  We  have  shown  how  the  few  great  thinkers 
must  first  appear;  how  they  naturally  become  the  educators 
of  their  day,  and  permeate  all  following  times  with  the  quick- 
ening energy  of  their  thoughts.  We  have  shown  how  natu- 
rally and  inevitably  learned  associations  arise  from  these, 
and  grow  into  educational  organizations.  It  is  all  a  work  of 
genius  and  free  thought.  It  is  a  light  struck  from  the  heart 
of  humanity  itself.  It  cannot  be  isolated,  it  cannot  be  con- 
fined; the  very  law  of  its  existence  is  that  it  shall  spread  it- 
self far  and  wide.  Disciples  gathered  around  the  old  philos- 
ophers to  be  taught;  they  in  turn  could  not  but  teach  others. 
Thousands  crowded  the  halls  of  the  scholastic  universities 
drawn  by  the  charm  of  knowledge,  themselves  to  be  gradu- 
ated as  teachers;  the  very  condition  on  which  they  were 
taught  was  that  they  should  teach  others.  Education  has 


S3 

never  been  confined  to  rank.  The  call  to  thought  was 
breathed  by  the  winds,  murmured  by  the  streams,  scattered 
abroad  by  the  light,  written  in  the  beauty,  harmony,  and 
glory  of  creation,  and  spoken  in  the  inward  sense  and  long- 
ing of  the  human  heart.  Education  could  not  begin,  without, 
in  the  end,  becoming  universal. 

The  modern  university  exemplifies  this  principle  of  neces- 
sary diffusion.  The  university  must  be  supplied  from  the 
gymnasium;  the  gymnasium  must  be  supplied  from  the  broad 
and  deep  reservoir  of  the  people.  But  a  rudimental  training- 
becomes  necessary  as  a  preparation  for  the  gymnasium.  Here 
then  is  the  necessity  of  a  general  rudimental  education. 
Then  arises  a  supply  of  a  different  kind  moving  in  the  oppo- 
site direction — a  supply  of  teachers.  The  taught  must  teach, 
or  the  whole  system  breaks  to  pieces.  Hence,  the  university 
supplies  teachers  not  only  for  itself,  but  for  the  gymnasium 
also;  and  the  gymnasium  must  directly  or  indirectly  supply 
teachers  for  the  people.  "With  the  multiplication  of  educated 
men,  entering  into  all  the  offices  of  society,  the  charm  of  ed- 
ucation is  felt,  and  its  necessity  perceived.  The  genial  in- 
spiration spreads,  and  a  whole  people  is  pervaded  by  the 
spirit  of  education.  Popular  education  is  the  natural  and 
necessary  result. 

Compare  now  the  state  of  popular  education  in  England 
with  that  in  Germany.  In  England  the  university  system 
lias  not  reached  a  proper  development.  Here  the  teachers  are 
only  the  fellows — an  elect  and  exclusive  class;  while  the 
graduates  at  large  instead  of  feeling  the  obligation  of  becom- 
ing teachers  in  time,  and  finding  a  field  open  for  the  exercise 
of  their  vocation,  go  out  into  the  world  as  men  who  are  pos- 
sessed of  a  privilege  which  belongs  to  rank  and  fortune. 
And  hence,  no  system  of  popular  education  has,  as  yet,  made 
its  appearance  here. 

In  Germany  on  the  contrary,  where  the  gymnasium  is  open 

to  the  poor  as  freely  as  to  the  rich,  where  all  who  honorably 

pass  through  the  gymnasium  cannot  fail  of  finding  access  to 

the  university,  and  where  every  educated  .man  becoming  41 

3 


34: 

member  of  the  great  educational  system,  incurs  the  obligation 
as  well  as  meets  the  demand  to  contribute  by  his  labors  as  a 
teacher  to  its  sustentation — there  we  find  a  most  perfect  sys- 
tem of  popular  education.  As  every  thing  in  education  de- 
pends upon  a  proper  supply  of  teachers,  so  there  the  primary 
or  common  school  is  provided  for  in  a  distinct  institution — 
the  Seminary  or  Normal  School;  while  this  again  is  supplied 
with  instructors  from  the  university  and  gymnasium. 

The  grand  result  may  be  stated  in  a  few  words— every  in. 
dividual  of  the  people  receives  at  least  a  rudimental  education, 
and  the  highest  forms  of  education  are  possible  to  all,  with- 
out distinction  of  rank  and  fortune. 

We  have  thus,  in  pursuing  the  course  of  educational  devel- 
opment, been  led  to  the  German,  or  as  it  is  more  commonly 
called,  the  Prussian  System,  its  highest,  and  most  perfect  rep- 
resentative in  modern  times.  "We  have  been  led  to  this  inev- 
itably. It  is  not  the  opinion  of  an  individual,  or  of  a  class; 
it  is  the  conclusion  of  a  demonstration;  or  rather,  it  is  an 
obvious  fact,  which  only  the  grossest  ignorance  or  the  most 
stupid  prejudice  could  presume  to  deny.  The  wisest  philoso- 
phers, and  the  greatest  educators  have  united  in  commending 
this  system.  Were  it  necessary  to  appeal  to  authority.  1 
might  mention  two  names,  than  which  none  can  be  found 
more  illustrious  for  intellect  and  learning,  or  more  devoted  to 
the  great  cause  of  education  and  civilization.  I  refer  to  Cou- 
sin of  France,  and  Hamilton  of  Scotland.  The  first  while 
minister  of  Public  Instruction  was  sent  on  a  special  mission 
to  Prussia  to  examine  and  report  upon  its  system  of  educa- 
tion. That  report  was  received  with  universal  approbation  in 
Europe  and  America.  It  held  up  the  Prussian  System  an 
the  most  perfect  in  the  world.  Through  its  influence  impor- 
tant changes  were  introduced  into  the  system  of  public  educa- 
tion in  France.  Is  o  part  of  it  was  more  commended  than  that 
which  relates  to  popular  education.  Hamilton  reviewed  this 
lie-port  in  the  Edinburgh  Review.  "The  institutions  of  Ger- 
many, for  public  instruction,"  he  remarks,  "  we  have  loiiij 
known  and  admired.  We  saw  these  institutions  accomplish- 


35 

ing  their  end  to  an  extent  and  in  a  degree  elsewhere  unex- 
ampled; and  were  convinced  that  if  other  nations  attempted 
an  improvement  of  their  educational  policy,  this  could  only 
be  accomplished  rapidly,  surely,  and  effectually,  by  adopting, 
as  far  as  circumstances  would  permit,  a  system  thus  approved 
by  an  extensive  experience,  and  the  most  memorable  success." 
After  commending  Cousin  as  "  a  philosoper  superior  to  all 
the  prejudices  of  age  or  country,  party  or  profession,"  and 
u  from  his  universality,  both  of  thought  and  acquirement,  the 
man  in  France  able  adequately  to  determine  what  a  scheme 
of  national  education  ought  in  theory  to  accomplish;  and 
from  his  familiarity  with  German  literature  and  philosophy, 
prepared  to  appreciate  in  all  its  bearings,  what  the  German 
national  education  actually  performs,"  he  adds,  "  from  the 
first  page  of  his  Report  to  the  last,  there  is  not  a  statement 
nor  opinion  of  any  moment  in  which  we  do  not  fully  and  cor- 
dially agree."  "  The  Report,"  he  continues,  "  was  published 
in  defiance  of  national  self-love,  and  the  strongest  national 
antipathies,  it  carried  conviction  throughout  France;  a  bill 
framed  by  its  author  for  primary  education,  and  founded  on 
its  conclusions,  was  almost  immediately  passed  into  a  law; 
and  M.  Cousin  himself  appointed  to  watch  over  and  direct  its 
execution.  Nor  could  the  philosopher  have  been  entrusted 
with  a  more  congenial  office;  for,  in  the  language  of  his  own 
Plato, — "  Man  cannot  propose  a  higher  and  holier  object  for 
his  study,  than  education,  and  all  that  pertains  to  education." 
The  benefit  of  his  legislation  cannot  indeed,  be  limited  to 
France;  a  great  example  has  there  been  set,  which  must  be 
elsewhere  followed;  and  other  nations  than  his  own  will  bless 
the  philosopher  for  their  intelligent  existence.  "  Jwventutem 
recte  formare"  says  Melancthon,  "paulo  plus  est  quam 
zxpugnare  Trojam;"  and  to  carry  back  the  education  of 
Prussia  into  France,affords  a  nobler — if  a  bloodless  triumph — 
there  the  trophies  of  Austerlitz  and  Jena." 

It  is  now  more  than  twenty  years  since  Sir  "William  Hamilton 
attacked  the  English  universities,  exposed  their  deterioration 
and  defects,and  called  aloud  or  reform.  His  clear  statement  of 


36 

facts,his  conclusive  logic,  liis  tremendous  sarcasm,  and  his  elo" 
quent  protests,  could  not  wholly  fail  even  with  a  people  as  im" 
movable  as  the  English;  but  still,  it  must  be  confessed  of  them 
that  they  are  prone  in  more  senses  than  one  to  attempt  to 
enter  Russia  by  Constantinople  rather  than  by  Warsaw; 
and  that  when  once  they  have  adopted  a  plan  they  would 
rather  make  their  graves  at  Sevastopol  than  change  it. 

Having  traced  the  progress  of  educational  development  to 
modern  Europe,  we  cannot;  with  propriety,  omit  to  take  a 
glance  at  our  own  country,  in  order  to  determine  our  place  ia 
the  great  movement. 

I  have  heard  the  remark  made  that  education  in  our  coun- 
try is  quite  peculiar,  and  is  strictly  an  American  system,  and 
that  all  our  efforts  ought  to  be  bent  to  develope  and  perfect  it 
as  an.  American  system,  independently  of  precedents.    This 
all  sounds  very  well,  and  will  serve  to  point  the  harangue 
of  a  demagogue  who  has  some  end  of  his  own  to  accomplish. 
But  has  it  any  rational  and  definite  signification?    One  of 
our  aborigines  might  talk  quite  consistently  and  .intelligibly 
of  an  American  system  of  education,  and  might  point  to  a 
training  in  the  use  of  the  bow  for  war,  and  for  hunting  the 
deer  and  the  buffalo,  and  to  wigwam  discipline.  The  Chinese, 
the  Hindoo,  and  the  Hottentot  might  also  each  claim  a  system 
peculiar  to  his  country.    But  of  the  nations  who  lie  within 
the  stream  of  European  and  Christian  civilization,  how  is  it 
possible  for  any  one  to  claim  independence  of  the  past,  whether 
in  science  and  letters,  in  arts,  in  religion,  in  government,  or 
in  education!     Are  not  the  roots  of  modern  Europe  spread 
through  the  past,  and  are  not  we  an  outgrowth  of  modern 
Europe  ?     The  men  who  first  settled  this  country  came  from 
Europe,  with  thoughts  which  they  had  thought  there,  with 
principles  which  they  had  gained  there,  and  to  plant  here  in- 
stitutions which  had  sprung  up  there:  escaping,  it  may  be, 
from  impediments,  persecution,  and  oppression,  which  at  the 
time  were  in  the  ascendant  there,  to  find  here  a  fairer  climate 
und  a  more  genial  soil,  and  to  breathe  a  purer  air  of  freedom; 
but,  Europeans,  nevertheless,  with  European  ideas,  and  ideas 


37 

too  running  back  twenty  centuries,  the  golden  and  imperish- 
able links  of  thought  binding  together  the  past,  present,  and 
future. 

Our  science,  our  arts,  our  literature,  with  one  consent  we 
give  them  a  European  origin.  Our  religion,  the  forms  of  our 
worship,  the  very  denominations  into  which  we  are  divided — 
these  are  European  also.  The  spirit  of  our  constitution  is 
found  in  the  English  constitution.  Our  representative  gov- 
ernment, if  more  perfect,  still  symbolizes  with  that  of  Eng- 
land. Our  common  law  is  the  common  law  of  England. 
The  very  union  of  our  States  was  preceded  by  the  union  of 
States  in  Holland. 

Is  it  in  education  then  that  we  are  purely  original  ?  Is 
there  nothing  here  of  foreign  origin?  Let  us  see. 

The  first  institution  of  learning  in  our  country  was  founded 
at  Cambridge  in  Massachusetts.  It  was  founded  by  men  who 
had  been  educated  in  the  English  universities.  After  this, 
other  institutions  were  founded  in  different  parts  of  our  coun- 
try, such  as  Yale  College  in  New  Haven,  and  Nassau  Hall, 
or  New  Jersey  College,  in  Princeton.  Confessedly  they  are 
all  after  the  same  model.  This  is  true  in  general  of  all  the 
colleges  which  have  at  different  times  been  established  in  our 
country.  Who  does  not  see  that  they  are  essentially  a  re-pro- 
duction of  the  English  colleges  ?  They  have  their  head  mas- 
ter, or  President;  originally  they  were  taught  chiefly  by  tutors, 
and  some  still  retain  this  feature;  they  all  have  the  four  un- 
der graduate  classes  with  the  same  names,  the  annual  com- 
mencement ceremonies,  and  the  academical  degrees  of  Bache- 
lor and  Master  of  Arts. 

Again,  the  English  colleges  are  connected  with  the  univer- 
sity which  confers  the  degrees  upon  their  graduates.  So  all 
the  American  colleges  have  at  least,  one  of  the  university  fac- 
ulties— that  of  arts;  and  some,  like  Yale  and  Harvard,  have 
even  four  faculties;  and  they  all  exercise  the  university  func- 
tion of  conferring  degrees.  Those  with  four  faculties  ought  to 
be  regarded  as  universities,  after  the  English  or  scholastic 
model.  Those  with  one  faculty  are  partial  universities.  Here, 


38 

however,  we  present  an  anomaly,  inasmuch  as  institutions 
which  have  only  the  Faculty  of  Arts,  confer  degrees  in  all  the 
other  faculties.  Our  colleges  are  therefore  English  colleges 
modified  to  suit  peculiar  circumstances.  Indeed  they  may  be 
regarded  as  a  return  to  the  scholastic  colleges  of  France,  where 
the  university  became  distributed  into  colleges,  as  we  have 
already  pointed  out.  In  this  respect  they  are  improvements 
upon  the  English  colleges,  and  have  really  advanced  one  step 
from  the  retrogradation  of  the  latter.  Where  they  have  sub- 
stituted, entirely,  instruction  by  university  faculties  for  instruc- 
tion by  tutors,  they  have  advanced  well  nigh  to  a  strict  con- 
formity to  the  old  French  colleges. 

Our  collegiate  system,  therefore,  where  it  is  not  strictly 
English  is  still  strictly  European;  and  it  must  be  confessed 
copies  closely  the  degenerate  period  of  the  scholastic  age. 

Closely  allied  to  the  college  in  our  country  is  the  academy, 
which  is  preparatory  to  it,  and  indeed,  may  even  be  considered 
a  part  of  it,  since  one  or  more  years  of  the  college  course  may 
be  pursued  at  the  academy.  The  idea  of  our  academies  is 
borrowed  from  English  schools  like  those  of  Eton  and  "Win- 
chester. 

The  superior  intelligence  of  the  men  who  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  our  institutions,  the  early  establishment  of  seminaries 
of  learning,  the  active  intelligence  of  a  free  people,  the  neces- 
sity of  education  felt  by  all  where  the  responsibility  of  politi- 
cal power  is  shared  by  all,  t  ave  together  led  to  a  system  of 
popular  education  which  is  both  the  safeguard  of  our  liberties, 
and  our  glory  as  a  nation.  In  popular  education  we  symbol- 
ize most  closely  with  Germany. 

In  perfecting  this  system,  as  well  as  in  efforts  to  arrive  at  a 
more  rational  development  of  our  higher  institutions,  we  are  be- 
ginning to  feel  the  influence  of  a  people  who  beyond  all  others 
have  reduced  education  to  a  science,  and  to  whom  we  must 
yield  the  honor  of  being  the  proper  representatives  of  modern 
educational  development.  From  them  we  have  already  bor- 
rowed the  Normal  school — the  only  effectual  means  of  per- 
fecting the  primary  school.  But  the  Normal  school  itself 


39 

cannot  be  perfected  without  the  gymnasium  and  university. 
Their  entire  system  is  one  compact  organism,  where  each  part 
can  do  well  its  proper  work,  only,  by  a  union  and  co-working 
of  all  the  parts.  The  logical  order  of  educational  develop- 
ment is,  of  course,  from  the  lower  schools  to  the  higher — the 
lower  expanding,  flowing  into  the  higher.  But  the  historical 
order  ever  has  been,  ever  must  be  from  the  higher  to  the  low- 
er— the  higher  calling  the  lower  into  existence,  or  where  other 
causes  as  in  our  own  country  have  contributed  to  produce 
them,  the  higher  perfecting  the  lower.  This  has  been  abun- 
dantly illustrated  from  the  ancient  schools  to  the  present  time. 
A  whole  people  in  a  state  of  ignorance  never  spontaneously 
move  upward  to  the  level  of  rudimental  education.  Sponta- 
neous movement  is  in  individual  minds;  and  small  associa- 
tions in  the  higher  spheres  of  thought  are  first  formed.  From 
them  education  spreads,  and  flows  downward,  until  a  universal 
rudimental  education  is  attained,  which  then  becomes  the  log- 
ical basis  of  the  whole  educational  system. 

And  if  we  were  to  suppose  a  whole  people  in  a  state  of  ig- 
norance, by  a  spontaneous  movement,  to  make  a  demand  for 
education,  it  would  be  necessary,  first  of  all,  to  seek  for  teach- 
ers to  impart  the  rudiments  of  learning.  But  thes.e  teachers 
would  imply  a  still  higher  order  of  teachers;  and  so  on,  until 
we  should  arrive  at  the  few  only  who  by  extraordinary  genius 
and  energy  had  attained  to  self-culture,  and  by  discoveries  in 
science  logically  reduced,  and  literary  productions,  had  pre- 
pared the  materials  and  instruments  of  education. 

Progress  in  knowledge  and  progress  in  education  must  ever 
run  parallel  to  each  other.  And  as  a  proper  arrangement  and 
presentation  of  the  elements  of  any  science  presumes  its  high- 
er development,  so  the  proper  constitution  of  schools  for  ele- 
mentary education  presumes  the  existence  of  institutions  where 
education  culminates. 

In  order,  therefore,  to  perfect  all  degrees  of  knowledge,  we 
must  aim  at  the  completest  unfolding  of  every  branch  of 
knowledge;  for  example,  to  perfect  agricultural  science,  we 
must  perfect  chemical  science,  and  to  perfect  nautical  science, 


40 

we  must  perfect  astronomical  science,  and  to  perfect  this,  we 
need  the  highest  mathematical  science. 

Things  with  which  we  are  quite  familiar,,  and  which  we  are 
accustomed  to  call  very  simple,  have  their  explanation  in  the 
profoundest  depths  of  science,  and  arise  from  the  subtlest 
causes:  like  the  water  which  we  dip  up  from  the  spring,  which 
was  collected  from  the  ocean,  dropped  from  the  clouds,  perco- 
lated through  the  bosom  of  the  mountain,  and  wound  its- 

o  ' 

course  through  many  a  hidden  channel.  And,  so  also,  the 
lowest  degrees  of  education  require  somewhere  the  highest 
forms  of  culture.  Our  spelling-book  contains  the  words  of  a 
cultivated  language — the  language  in  which  Shakspeare  and 
Milton  wrote.  Our  simplest  arithmetic  is  founded  upon  ratio, 
proportion,  and  equation.  The  common  knowledge  of  the 
earth  and  skies,  now  taught  to  children,  required  the  genius 
of  a  Newton,  a  La  Place,  a  Davy,  a  Liebig.  There  is  no 
vulgar  and  puerile,  truth,  for  all  truth  has  a  divine  source. 
The  angels  who  look  upon  the  face  of  God  are  the  guardians 
of  infants;  and  the  knowledge  of  the  Infinite  is  necessary  to* 
guide  us  in  oar  simplest  duties. 

The  great  principle  of  ail  knowledge  lies  in  the  possibility 
of  the  highest  knowledge:  The  great  principle  of  all  educa- 
tion lies  in  the  possibility  of  the  highest  education. 

Any  people  or  state,  therefore,  who  would  have  a  perfect 
system  of  education,  must  bend  their  endeavors  to  the  devel- 
opment of  the  highest  institutions  of  learning. 

We  have  seen  how  the  colleges  and  universities  of  our 
country  have  grown  from  European  institutions.  But  it  must 
be  acknowledged,  that  we  have  not  squared  ourselves  yet  to  the 
highest  forms  and  degrees  of  European  development.  Our 
system,  belongs  to  the  scholastic  age,  rather  than  to  the  mod- 
ern. 

We  have,  indeed,  received  ideas  belonging  to  the  modern 
age,  and  we  are  making  attempts  to  apply  them  in  the  im- 
provement of  our  institutions.  But  these  attempts  have  not 
yet  brought  about  one  harmonious  system,  but  rather  a  mix- 
ture of  opposite  systems. 


41 

In  the  New  England  States  we  find  a  number  of  colleges 
all  independent  of  each  other;  with  one  or  two  excep- 
tions, disconnected  with  the  State;  with  one  or  more  fac- 
ulties; and  all  following  the  English  model  or  the  French 
scholastic  colleges  in  their  general  organization.  Brown  Uni- 
versity is  an  exception  in  part. 

In  the  State  of  New  York  all  the  colleges  are  embraced  by 
a  central  organization,  called  the  University  of  the  State  of 
New  York,  consisting  of  a  Board  of  Eegents  presided  over 
by  a  Chancellor.  The  control  which  this  board  exercises  how- 
ever, is  very  slight,  and  the  several  colleges  appear  to  enjoy 
equal  independence  with  the  colleges  of  other  States.  They 
make  annual  reports,  which  are  embodied  in  the  Report  of 
the  Eegents.  Then  in  the  city  of  New  York  there  is  a  uni- 
versity, so  called,  with  two  faculties  organized,  and  the  power 
of  organizing  another,  subject  also  to  the  Regents  of  the  State, 
and  constituted  under  a  board  of  Councillors  with  a  Chan- 
cellor. The  State  organization  is  copied  after  the  English,  at 
Cambridge  and  Oxford,  although  varying  from  it  in  several 
respects;  while  the  organization  of  the  city  university  is  cop- 
ied after  that  of  London. 

In  Rochester  there  is  a  university  of  two  faculties,  with 
both  a  President  and  a  Chancellor.  In  Wisconsin  there  is  a 
university  with  one  faculty,  organized  under  a  Board  of  Re- 
gents and  a  Chancellor.  The  other  colleges  and  universities 
of  the  country  copy  generally  the  New  England  colleges,  with 
the  exception  of  the  University  of  Virginia,  and  Brown  Uni- 
versity. Of  our  own  university  I  shall  speak  separately. 
The  degrees  are  granted  in  the  last  two  after  a  certain  amount  of 
study,  but  the  students  are  allowed  to  select  their  courses  with 
great  freedom.  These  institutions,  in  this  respect,  conform  to 
the  University  of  Edinburgh. 

But  while  the  English  models  are  in  general  followed  in  our 
country,  tbe  indications  are  very  decisive  that  the  influence 
of  the  German  universities  has  not  been  unfelt.  This  appears 
in  the  additional  schools  which  have  been  introduced,  such  as 
the  Lawrence  Scientific  School  in  Harvard,  and  the  Philosoph- 


42 

ical  department,  and  the  schools  of  Civil  Engineering  and 
Agriculture  in  Yale  College,  and  in  the  university  course  lately 
established  in  Union  College,  on  the  fund  created  and  dona- 
ted by  President  Nbtt. 

We  perceive  in  all  this,  attempts  to  advance  beyond  the 
English  colleges,  and  to  bring  in  something  of  the  German 
amplitude  and  freedom. 

In  proceeding  to  consider  the  system  of  public  instruction 
in  our  own  State,  we  must  admit  at  once  that  we  have  here  also 
a  mixture  of  systems.  I  have  on  a  former  occasion  spoken  on 
this  subject  so  fully,  that  a  brief  view  will  here  suffice. 

The  Board  of  Kegents,  the  different  faculties,  the  four  years 
course,  the  annual  commencement,  the  two  degrees  in  arts — 
all  belong  to  the  English  and  scholastic  institutions.  The 
presiding  officer  of  the  Board  of  Kegents  is  also  the  chief 
executive  officer  of  the  institution,  and  the  president  of  all  the 
faculties.  This  is  according  to  the  English  university,  or  scho- 
lastic system,  also. 

On  the  Continent  the  title  of  this  officer  is  Rector:  In 
England  it  is  Chancellor;  but  the  executive  functions  are  dis- 
charged by  a  Vice-Chancellor.  In  our  country  wherever  a 
board  of  Kegents  has  been  constituted,  the  English  precedent 
has  been  followed,  unless  our  own  State  be  an  exception. 

So  far,  then  we  have  embraced  in  our  system,  in  common 
with  the  institutions  of  our  country,  English  and  scholastic 
elements.  But  there  are  others  of  a  different  character. 

Throughout  the  legislation  of  our  State  on  the  subject  of 
education,  in  the  plans  of  education  drawn  up  by  our  wisest 
and  best  men,  in  our  constitutional  provisions,  and  in  the 
forms  of  institutions  which  have  been  attempted,  or  which 
have  attained  a  permanent  existence,  we  find  the  Prussian 
system  announced  as  a  model,  and  more  or  less  developed. 
Our  primary  schools,  our  Normal  school,  our  superintend- 
ent of  public  instruction  are  directly  copied,  from  Prussia. 
Again,  when  the  university  was  first  established,  there  were 
established  along  with  it  certain  schools  which  were  called 


43 

branches  of  the  university.  These  were  preparatory  to  the 
university,  and  were  evidently  copied  from  the  German  gym- 
nasium. 

Their  title  was  a  misnomer.  A  university  can  have  no 
branches,  unless  we  so  designate  its  faculties.  A  university 
is  a  compact  association  of  learned  men  incorporated  and  ex- 
isting in  one  place.  To  distribute  it  into  branches  planted  in 
different  places,  would  prove  as  incompatible  with  its  offices 
as  to  scatter  abroad  a  legislative  assembly,  and  would,  in  fact, 
destroy  it. 

A  university  may  attempt  to  distribute  itself  into  colleges, 
but  then  the  colleges  must  be  collected  in  one  place,  where  all 
the  materials  of  learning  may  be  concentrated,  and  where  the 
faculties  may  have  convenient  access  to  them.  Any  other  ar- 
rangement would  beget  the  necessity  of  multiplying  faculties 
with  libraries  and  apparatus,  and  would  really  issue  in  the 
creation  of  many  distinct  institutions  of  the  same  kind.  Be- 
sides, we  have  proved  that  colleges  do  not  legitimately  com- 
pose a  university,  that  they  destroyed  the  integrity  of  the 
French  universities,  and  superseded  the  English  with  institu- 
tions of  a  very  inferior  grade. 

But  laying  aside  the  title  of  branches,  we  see  in  these  in- 
stitutions a  worthy  attempt  to  create  that  system  of  gymna- 
sia essential  to  a  well  ordered  system  of  education,  and 
without  which  universities  cannot  reach  their  full  proportions 
and  efficiency. 

It  was  unfortunate  that  the  plan  could  not  have  been  prop- 
erly digested  and  carried  out.  To  place  them  upon  the  uni- 
versity fund  was  suicidal  of  the  whole  undertaking:  for  they 
only  diminished  a  nutriment  which  can  never  be  sufficient  for 
both,  without  deriving  an  adequate  supply  for  their  own  exis- 
tence. 

The  Union  schools  which  have  since  arisen  are  but  another 
expression  of  the  same  idea — the  idea  of  taking  pupils  who 
have  received  the  first  rudiments  of  learning  at  the  primary 
school,  and  inducting  them  into  a  system  of  regular  training, 
based  on  the  constitution  of  the  human  mind,  and  the  natural 


44: 

order  of  the  growth  and  unfolding  of  its  faculties;  and  on  the 
nature  of  different  studies  as  ministering  to  this  growth,  and 
forming  a  philosophical  discipline  of  the  faculties  graduated 
to  this  order;  so  that,  from  childhood  to  adolescence,  and  from 
adolescence  to  budding  manhood,  the  mind  shall  be  led  along 
genially  and  cheerfully,  to  any  point  of  education  less  than 
the  full  course,  or,  by  completing  the  course,  to  a  preparation 
for  the  university,  This  is  the  true  gymnastic  course — the 
course  which  Michigan  has  been  aiming  at  in  her  intermedi- 
ate schools,  and  which  it  may  be  her  high  destiny  finally  to 
mature  and  bring  into  full  operation.  Whatever  these  schools 
may  cost,  the  State  has  no  higher  interest  than  their  perfect 
constitution  and  development.  They  will  afford  the  possibil- 
ity of  education  as  widely  and  freely  as  the  common  schools, 
but  it  will  be  the  possibility  of  a  higher  education,  consistently 
and  harmoniously  ordered.  Now,  a  vast  amount  of  time  is 
lost  in  childhood  and  youth  for  the  want  of  early  opportuni- 
ties of  educational  training;  and  young  men  who  propose  to 
enter  the  higher  institutions  of  learning,  have  either  to  suffer 
the  loss  of  knowledge  which  ought  to  have  been  acquired  long 
before,  or  are  compelled  by  spasmodic  efforts,  often  ruinous  to 
the  health,  aud  injurious  to  the  mind  itself,  to  make  up,  and 
that  in  an  imperfect  manner,  the  deficiencies  of  early  life- 
Conceive  of  a  gymnasium  open  to  you  from  childhood.  At 
twelve  years  of  age  you  have  acquired  French,  have  overcome 
the  difficulties  of  the  Latin,  and  begin  to  feel  the  charms  of 
its  literature,  and  are  grounded  in  arithmetic,  geography, 
drawing,  and  music:  At  fifteen  you  are  reading  Greek  and 
German  with  pleasure,  and  have  acquired  the  elements  of 
mathematics,  and  a  general  knowledge  of  history:  And  at 
eighteen  or  nineteen — instead  of  beginning  to  prepare  for  col- 
lege, as  many  now  do,  tortured  by  the  Latin  and  Greek  gram- 
mars, and  in  the  haste  inspired  by  the  consciousness  that  you 
are  almost  men — you  find  yourselves  in  the  easy  and  almost 
natural  command  of  languages  and  the  principles  of  science, 
with  the  habits  of  a  scholar  thoroughly  matured,  and  the  art 
of  study  mastered,  and  ready  to  step  into  the  university  as  an 


45 

inviting  field  of  knowledge,  where  every  thing  is  prepared  to 
jour  hand,  and  where  you  feel  prepared  to  put  your  hand  to 
every  thing,  with  the  skill  of  one  who  having  thoroughly 
learned  his  trade  is  never  embarrassed  in  handling  his  tools. 

Ye  who  know  by  hard  experience  the  want  of  all  this,  sym- 
pathize with  those  who  are  to  come  after  you,  and  in  the  true 
spirit  of  literary  association,  determine  unitedly  to  labor  for 
the  elevation  and  perfection  of  the  institutions  of  your  coun- 
try! 

The  proper  constitution  of  these  schools,  by  whatever  name 
they  are  designated,  will  require  great  wisdom,  great  care, 
great  energy,  and  a  supply  of  teachers  who  know  how  to  do 
their  work. 

Where  shall  we  find  these  teachers?  The  Normal  schools 
cannot  supply  them,  for  they  are  designed  to  supply  teachers 
for  the  primary  schools — a  great  and  important  work,  embra- 
cing what  we  have  called  the  logical  basis  of  the  whole  sys- 
tem of  public  instruction.  Or  they  can  supply  them  only  to 
a  limited  extent,  and  in  the  more  juvenile  classes.  The  Uni- 
versity alone  can  supply  teachers  for  the  gymnastic  schools. 
In  Germany  you  will  find  university-educated  men  giving  in- 
struction in  arithmetic  and  geography;  masters  of  their  sub- 
jects, they  instruct  without  text  books,  and  fill  their  class- 
rooms with  the  vivacity  and  charm  of  oral  communication, 
and  keep  the  interest  of  their  pupils  alive  by  the  necessity  of 
prompt  answers  to  unexpected  questions. 

And  here  rises  up  to  view,  again,  the  great  principle  I  have 
expounded  and  illustrated  throughout  this  discourse,  that  in 
the  historical  order  of  development  the  highest  institutions 
come  first.  Without  a  perfected  university,  we  can  never 
have  a  perfected  system  of  public  education,  even  in  the  low- 
est degrees;  and  as  it  has  been,  so  must  it  ever  be,  that  pop- 
ular education  must  flow  out  of  the  higher  institutions,  as  the 
showers  that  water  the  valleys  and  plains  fall  from  clouds 
which  were  gathered  on  the  mountains. 

The  university,  the  gymnasium,  the  Normal  schools,  the 
primary  schools,  once  started  into  existence,  must  move  on 


together.  Each  is  necessary  to  the  whole,  and  the  prosperity 
of  each  contributes  to  the  prosperity  of  the  whole.  Nothing 
but  sheer  sciolism  or  utter  ignorance  can  conceive  of  any  op- 
position between  them;  and  none  but  an  empiric  in  education, 
or  a  traitor  to  its  cause,  can  aim  to  aid  one  by  the  sacrifice  of 
any  of  the  others.  Education  is  like  a  garden  of  trees,  where 
some  are  just  springing  from  the  earth,  some  have  attained  a 
young  growth,  some  are  beginning  to  tower  aloft  in  nascent 
form,  beauty  and  strength,  while  others  have  reached  a  mature 
and  majestic  growth,  and  are  bearing  seeds  and  scattering 
them  far  and  wide.  There  can  be  no  great  trees,  unless  there 
are  first  the  little  sprouts  shooting  through  the  soil,  but  the 
great  trees  sow  the  seeds  which  perpetuate  the  kind. 

The  University  of  Michigan  is  not  yet  a  proper  university, 
even  in  form.  Full  grown  it  cannot  be,  but  why  not  give  it 
a  proper  form  ? 

The  history  of  this  university  is  in  every  respect  honorable^ 
to  those  who  have  created  it,  to  those  who  have  fostered  and 
conducted  it.  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  Regents,  faculties, 
patrons  and  friends.  I  shall  not  even  find  fault  with  enemies, 
for  they  too  have  helped  it  along.  It  is  like  a  plant  which 
the  sun  shone  upon,  and  the  dew  and  the  rains  watered,  and 
it  grew:  and  then  there  came  an  earthquake,  and  many 
feared  that  its  stem  was  broken,  or  that  the  earth  had  swal- 
lowed it  up:  but  when  the  convulsion  had  ceased,  it  was  found 
there  still,  growing  morp  luxuriantly,  and  becoming  more 
beautiful  than  ever;  the  earthquake  had  only  shattered  some 
rocks  about  its  roots  which  enabled  them  to  spread  wide  and 
free,  and  opened  a  living  spring  by  its  side  which  ever  after- 
wards kept  it  fresh  and  green. 

No  institution  of  learning  in  this  country,  in  the  same  time, 
has  grown  so  rapidly.  Let  any  one  look  into  the  histories  of 
our  colleges  and  universities,  and  he  will  find  this  to  be  the 
fact. 

Founded  upon  a  fund  created  by  the  bounty  of  the  General 
Government,  it  has  cost  the  State  nothing.  Enlightened  and 
good  men  were  its  founders,  and  the  good  and  true  hearts  of 


47 

the  State  have  ever  gathered  around  it.  Past  legislation  has 
not  done  much  for  it.  There  are  facts  which  would  indicate 
that  past  legislation  has  even  impaired  its  fund. 

But,  more  recently,  legislation  has  been  directed  toward  its 
interests.  "We  may  now  begin  to  hope  that  the  State  will 
cherish  its  own  institution^  and  be  a  sun  and  shield  to  it.  In 
some  quarters  there  is  a  disposition  to  build  up  separate  sec- 
tarian colleges.  Sects,  undoubtedly,  have  a  right  to  do  this. 
But,  it  appears  to  me  a  subject  of  regret,  whether  it  take  place 
in  our  State,  or  in  other  States.  There  was  a  time  when,  per- 
haps, it  was  unavoidable;  but  where  a  great  central  State  in- 
stitution exists,  or  can  be  created,  it  is  the  true  policy  for  all 
sects  and  parties  to  rally  around  it. 

We  can  see  no  good  reason  why  the  State  which  creates  and 
fosters  a  system  of  primary  schools,  should  not  also  create 
and  foster  the  higher  institutions  of  learning,  with  the  single 
exception  of  theological  institutions.  If  the  lower  grade  of 
education  be  taken  under  the  patronage  of  the  State,  why 
should  not  the  higher  grades  also  ?  It  is  an  abuse  of  lan- 
guage to  apply  the  term  popular,  only,  to  the  lower  grade  of 
education.  Why  not  make  the  whole  system  of  education, 
from  the  primary  schools  to  the  university,  popular,  in  the 
sense  of  laying  all  open  to  the  people,  so  that  every  man  may, 
if  he  please,  attain  to  the  most  perfect  education  ?  This  ac- 
cords with  the  true  idea  of  democratical  institutions;  and  thin 
idea  has  already  made  its  mark  upon  the  educational  system 
of  Michigan. 

There  are,  perhaps,  no  parts  of  our  country  better  adapted 
to  the  creation  of  universities,  according  to  the  true  idea,  than 
the  State  of  Michigan  and  the  city  of  Hew  York.  I  may,  at 
least,  be  permitted  to  speak  of  these,  more  particularly,  be- 
cause I  am  better  acquainted  with  them. 

The  State  of  Michigan  has  already  an  institution  which  i? 
making  some  progress  towards  the  realization  of  the  true  idea, 
and  is  capable  of  realizing  it  completely.  What  she  now 
needs,  most  of  all,  is  the  establishment  of  intermediate  insti- 
tutions or  gymnasia.  If  she  takes  the  two  extreme  grades — 


the  primary  schools  together  with  the  Normal  school,  and  the 
university  under  her  patronage  and  direction,  why  not  take 
the  intermediate  grade  also  ?  Now,  the  university,  of  neces- 
sity, is,  for  the  most  paTt,  a  gymnasium.  Were  gymnasia 
established  in  all  the  principal  places,  then  students  would  be 
prepared  for  the  university  course,  and  the  university  might 
be  fully  developed.  Nothing  is  wanting  for  this  but  funds 
lor  the  endowment  of  gymnasia,  and  to  complete  the  endow- 
ment of  the  university.  -These  funds  might  be  provided  from 
the  Swamp  Lands.  Michigan  has  the  advantage  of  having  a 
system  marked  out,  and,  already,  in  part,  developed.  She  is 
also  in  the  freshness  of  her  youth,  and  is  less  trammelled  by 
precedents  and  usage  than  older  States. 

The  city  of  New  York  has  an  admirable  system  of  public 
schools,  and  is  connecting  with  this  Normal  school  instruc- 
tion. It  has  also  established  one  institution — the  Free  Acade- 
my— which  symbolizes  very  much  with  the  gymnasium.  It 
requires,  only,  a  greater  term  of  years,  embracing  pupils 
younger  than  those  now  admitted,  and  an  extension  of  its 
course  of  study  upwards,  in  order  to  become  a  gymnasium 
complete.  The  city  of  New  York  might  multiply  these  insti- 
tutions. Berlin,  a  smaller  city  than  New  York,  has  seven 
gymnasia,  containing  over  three  thousand  pupils.  Why 
should  New  York  have  less  ?  The  two  colleges  at  present  ex- 
isting in  New  York  might  also  become  gymnasia.  Or  divid- 
ing their  organization,  they  might  each  have  a  gymnasium, 
and  in  their  faculties  become  connected  with  a  common  uni- 
versity. 

A  university  might  be  established  in  New  York  by  the  city 
itself.  If  the  city  establish  the  other  grades  of  education,  why 
not  establsh  the  highest? 

Or,  a  university  might  be  established  by  private  subscrip- 
tion. 

In  either  case,  there  is  one  obstacle  which  New  York  can 
never  experience,  and  that  is  the  want  of  the  requisite  funds. 
A  city  of  such  enormous  wealth  and  of  such  lavish 


49 

iture  in  so  many  directions,  can  never  plead  the  want  of 
means  for  the  great  purpose  of  public  education. 

Science  and  letters  have  no  natural  alliance  with  sects  in  re- 
ligion, or  parties  in  politics,  but  offer  a  common  ground  where 
all  elevated  minds,  and  the  true  friends  of  human  improve- 
ment may  fraternize  and  pursue  a  common  end.  Sectarian 
colleges  remind  us  of  the  Cathedral  and  Conventual  schools. 
A  great  university,  common  to  all,  recalls  the  freedom  and 
academic  charm  o'f  the  ancient  classic  schools,  and  advances 
our  educational  system,  to  the  dignity  and  efficiency  claimed 
by  the  modern  age  of  educational  development.  Instead  of 
the  numerous  imperfect  colleges  scattered  through  the  United 
States,  how  noble  that  organization  would  appear,  which 
should  give  to  each  State  a  great  central  university  with  depend- 
ent gymnasia  planted  in,  at  least,  all  the  principal  places  ! 

But  to  accomplish  this,  we  must,  first  of  all,  imbibe  the 
true  idea  of  a  university,  and  begin  to  adopt  the  proper  form. 

I  have  said  that  the  University  of  Michigan  has  riot  reached 
the  proper  form.  Indeed,  where  do  we  find  the  proper  form 
in  our  country  2 

What  means  this  four  years  course  for  the  first  degree,  and 
then  three  years  more  for  the  second  degree  ?  Surely  there 
is  nothing  American  in  this — there  is  nothing  even  modern 
in  it.  No  one  doubts  that  it  is  altogether  scholastic — the 
mystic  number  of  years  retained  which  was  once  graduated 
to  a  mystic  uumber  of  arts  !  How  fond  we  are  of  this  inys- 
tic  number.  Wo  give  it  not  merely  to  all  our  colleges;  we 
are  giving  it  to  all  our  schools  above  the  common  school  grade. 
We  have  every  where  our  four  classes,  our  commencements, 
and  graduations.  We  are  multiplying  our  Bachelors  and 
Masters  on  all  sides.  Are  we  not  even  dreaming  of  re-build- 
ing the  Parthenon,  and  restoring  the  image  made  by  the  hand 
of  Phidias  ?  "  The  fond  idolaters  of  old  "  deified  beauty  and 
wisdom  under  different  forms;  but  wo  will  deify  all  our  beauty 
under  the  form  of  wisdom,  and  we  will  place  our  new  god- 
dess in  our  new  Parthenon  under  the  august  title  of  Mistress 
of  Arts  ? 

4 


50 

Is  there  any  thing  in  the  nature  and  compass  of  science  and 
ietters,which  demands  that  in  order  to  gain  a  sufficient  knowl- 
edge of  them  to  qualify  us  to  begin  to  teach  them,  and  to  gain 
a  very  perfect  knowledge  of  them  so  that  we  may  teach  them 
like  masters,  we  must  distribute  them  first  under  a  four  years 
course,  and  then  under  a  three  ?  And  although  we  may  have 
seventy  arts  where  the  scholastics  had  seven,  is  the  mystic 
number  like  the  fairy  tent,  usually  folded  up  like  a  fan,  but 
vrhen  the  occasion  required,  capable  of  being  expanded  so  as 
shelter  a  whole  army  ? 

This  blind  devotion  to  a  mystic  number,  this  implicit  obe- 
dience to  a  rule  derived  from  a  period  which  we  are  accus- 
tomed, in  other  relations,  to  call  the  dark  ages,  is  a  most  ex- 
traordinary fact  in  the  history  of  education.  Its  influence  has 
been  disastrous.  It  is  this  which  has  led  us,  as  the  number  of 
our  sciences  has  still  increased  and  each  science  expanded,  as 
history  has  still  grown,  and  literature  multiplied,  to  crush 
them  all  within  a  Procrustean  bed  and  reduce  them  to  an  in- 
variable dimension.  Thus  has  education  become  superficial 
in  proportion  as  it  has  become  pretentious;  and  the  true  idea 
of  education  as  a  discipline  of  the  faculties  has  been  lost  sight 
of  in  the  attainment  of  a  degree,  which  means  less  in  propor- 
tion as  it  attempts  to  represent  more. 

Why  not,  then,  abolish  this  system  and  establish  a  real  uni- 
versity ?  Will  it  be  said  that  we  cannot  find  a  sufficient  num- 
ber of  students  prepared  or  willing  to  enter  a  proper  univer- 
sity? The  very  objection  implies  the  poverty  of  our  disci- 
pline, and  is  an  acknowledgment  that  we  neither  bestow  a 
high  culture,  nor  awaken  an  enthusiasm  for  learning.  The 
greater  the  need,  then,  of  attempting  something  better. 

Do  you  ask  what  I  propose?  I  reply: — Let  the  leading  in- 
stitutions of  our  country,  and  our  own  among  the  number, 
strike  out  boldly  into  the  true  university  discipline.  Let  them 
each  become  a  proper  university,  and  each  establish  by  its 
own  side  a  proper  gymnasium.  Models  would  thus  be  crea- 
ted. Each  would  furnish  a  supply  of  students  for  itself  in  the 
first  instance.  Students  too  would  spring  up  from  other 


51 

sources,  for  such  a  movement  would  awaken  an  enthusiasm 
now  undreamed  of.  Nor  would  the  period  of  educational  dis- 
cipline be  extended  beyond  its  present  limit:  but  appropria- 
ting the  early  years  of  life,  and  introducing  a  consecutive 
gradation,  we  should  really  gain  education  where  we  now 
gain  a  degree,  and  exchange  the  title  of  master  for  the  deep 
consciousness  of  knowledge  and  culture. 

Then  would  a  new  era  of  education  and  of  institutions  of 
learning  in  our  country,  be  ushered  in.  With  us,  too,  the 
spirit  of  the  old  Greek  schools  would  be  wedded  to  modern 
science,  arts,  and  civilization,  and  they  would  represent  the 
blushing  morning,  and  we  the  meridian  splendor  of  the  same 
day. 

All  literary  association,  all  educational  development  began 
with  the  ancient  schools:  all  literary  association,  all  educa- 
tional development,  in  our  day,  flow  from  university  organi- 
zation. This  is  the  great  fact.  The  societies  whose  members 
I  now  address  are  another  illustration  of  this  fact. 

Gentlemen !  remember  the  high  origin  of  your  associations. 
Most  noble  and  ancient  is  their  ancestry:  and  in  the  long  de- 
scent appear  the  names  of  the  great  and  good,  whose  path 
through  the  ages  is  a  path  of  light,  and  whose  lives  make  up 
all  that  is  most  valuable  in  history,  and  most  worthy  to  be 
remembered.  Imitate  those  who  have  gone  before  you,  by  a 
noble  and  generous  devotion  to  letters  and  arts.  The  very 
names  you  bear,  you  have  borrowed  from  the  old  Greeks. 
Live  up  to  the  significancy  of  those  names.  Be  inspired  by 
the  Attic  spirit  of  philosophic  truth  and  ideal  beauty.  Seize 
boldly  also  upon  the  modern  idea  of  educational  development. 
Be  yourselves  an  illustration  of  the  identity  which  reigns 
throughout;  and  one  of  the  freshest  and  most  unexceptiona- 
ble examples  of  the  True,  the  Good,  and  the  Beautiful,  perpet- 
uated by  the  association  of  scholars. 


BACCALAUREATE  ADDRESS, 


DELIVERED  AT  TUB 


OF 


JTJ1XO3    227,    XG55. 


BACCALAUREATE. 


GENTLEMEN — GRADUATES  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  MICHIGAN  : 
In  the  discourse  which  I  had  the  honor  to  deliver  before 
the  Literary  Societies,  on  Monday  evening  last,  I  attempted 
a  sketch  of  the  progress  of  Educational  Development.  I  then 
pointed  out  the  origin  and  the  meaning  of  the  degrees  which 
have  been  conferred  to-day. 

In  the  ancient  schools  there  were  no  academical  degrees; 
they  had  their  origin  in  the  university  organization  which 
arose  in  the  last  centuries  of  the  middle  ages.  The  university 
was  an  association  of  learned  men  for  the  purposes  of  scien- 
tific advancement  and  of  education.  Graduation  was  intended 
both  to  mark  the  progress  of  the  pupils,  and  to  be  a  form  of 
receiving  them  as  members  of  the  university  association. 
For,  you  will  recollect,  that  this  association  was  composed 
altogether  of  graduates,  and  that  the  full  graduate  or  master 
was  then,  also,  a  Doctor,  a  Regent,  and  a  Professor.  The 
graduate  of  the  first  degree  or  Bachelor  of  Arts,  commenced 
his  novitiate  as  a  teacher — a  novitiate  which  extended  through 
three  years,  and  until  he  took  his  second  degree  and  became 
a  member  of  the  university  association  in  full. 

In  England  and  America,  and  to  some  extent  in  France, 
the  old  forms  and  titles  have  been  continued.  In  Germany, 
which  we  take  as  the  true  representative  of  the  modern  edu- 
cational development,  the  forms  and  titles  are  changed  while 
the  thing  remains,  but  more  elevated  and  perfect.  Here  that 
portion  of  the  discipline  which  was  necessary  to  a  Bachelor's 


<legree  in  the  old  universities,  is  consigned  to  a  distinct  insti- 
tution— the  gymnasium.  The  completion  of  this  is  marked 
by  no  degree,  although  those  who  have  passed  through  the 
gymnasium  sometimes  begin  immediately  to  teach,  in  the  pri- 
mary and  Normal  schools.  In  the  university,  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Philosophy,  is  conferred,  and  this  denotes  in  the 
modern,  what  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  denoted  in  the 
old  universities. 

The  German  universities  in  spirit  and  in  fact  are  the  only 
modern  institutions  which  closely  conform  to  all  that  was  truly 
excellent  and  significant  in  the  institution  of  degrees;  for  in 
them  the  Doctors  of  Philosophy,  Law,  and  Medicite  receive 
with  their  diplomas  the  right  to  be  admitted  as  lecturers  in 
their  several  faculties.  The  distinction,  too,  between  teachers 
of  the  first  and  second  degree  is  virtually  kept  up:  for,  al- 
though none  but  a  full  graduate  or  Doctor  is  allowed  to  teach, 
at  all,  in  the  university;  still, he  begins  to  teach  among  the 
Docentes  or  unsalaried  lecturers.  He  attains  his  highest  de- 
gree as  a  teacher  when  he  is  received  among  the  full  and  sal- 
aried professors.  The  extraordinary  or  assistant  professor  oc- 
cupies an  intermediate  grade  in  the  passage  from  the  Docentes 
to  the  Professors.  Hence,  we  find  in  the  German  universities 
a  more  numerous  body  of  instructors  than  in  any  other  mod- 
ern institutions  of  learning.  In  this  respect,  also,  they  sym- 
bolize with  the  old  universities.  Thus,  in  Berlin,  for  example, 
in  1850,  there  were  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  instructors;  of 
whom,  sixty  two  were  full  professors,  forty- four  professors  ex- 
trtiordinary,  and  fifty-nine  Docentes  or  Doctors  simply. 

Were  we  prepared,  therefore,  to  carry  out  with  respect  to 
ourselves  the  modern  university  development,  you  perceive 
that  graduation  would  not  cease. 

One  thing  however,  cannot  be  denied; — that  whether  we 
regard  ourselves  as  belonging  to  the  form  of  organization  which 
began  in  the  middle  ages,  or  feel  inclined  to  take  our  place 
among  modern  institutions,  we  can  consistently  give  but  one 
interpretation  to  graduation: — to  graduate  is  to  take  our  place 
among  teachers  ;  to  graduate  in  the  first  degree  is  to  enter 


upon  our  novitiate  as  teachers  ; — to  graduate  in  the  second 
degree  is  to  complete  that  novitiate  and  to  become  teachers  in 
full — teachers  under  the  university  organization. 

I  am  well  aware  that  in  entering  the  university  association 
of  teachers,  it  is  neither  possible  in  itself,  nor  expected  of  you 
on  the  part  of  the  university,  whether  you  are  graduates  of 
the  first  or  second  degree,  that  you  shall  all  become  profess- 
ional teachers.  This  never  has  taken  place,  and  never  can 
take  place  ;  for  your  services  are  required,  also,  in  other  de- 
partments of  life.  But,  nevertheless,  let  it  not  be  forgotten 
that  you  are  members  of  this  association.  As  such,  it  is  in- 
cumbent upon  you  to  take  a  lively  and  peculiar  interest  in 
the  great  cause  of  education,  and  to  promote  it  by  every 
means  in  your  power.  And  in  connection  with  this  general 
duty,  I  am  sure  you  will  not  be  disposed  to  deny,  that  a  duty 
rests  upon  you,  in  particular,  in  reference  to  the  university  of 
which  you  now  are  members,  and  ever  must  be,  while  you  re- 
tain your  diplomas.  You  have  here,  too,  the  consolation  of 
reflecting  that  no  conflict  of  duties  can  possibly  arise.  Every 
great  cause  is  best  sustained  by  each  one  faithfully  doing  his 
duty  in  his  place — in  his  own  particular  relation.  Besides, 
their  is  no  way  in  which  education  can  be  more  effectually 
advanced  than  by  carrying  out  our  universities  to  the  highest 
degree  of  perfection.  These  are  the  great  lakes  from  whence 
the  clouds  are  formed  which  fall  in  fertilizing  showers  ; — the 
parents  of  streams  which  meander  far  and  wide  ; — the  foun- 
tains of  rivers  which  flow  through  mighty  regions  bestowing 
beauty  and  richness  along  their  banks,  and  uniting  the  inter- 
ests of  distant  places.  The  manifold  benefits — the  proud  dis- 
tinction which  great  institutions  of  learning  bestow  upon  the 
countries  and  States  to  which  they  belong,  nay,  the  benefits 
which  they  bestow  upon  other  countries  and  States,  is  a  mat- 
ter of  ordinary  history  with  which  every  one  is  familiar.  The 
moment  the  idea  is  suggested,  do  not  the  universities  of  Paris, 
Berlin,  Munich,  Oxford,  Edinburgh,  and  others  like  them,  rise 
up  before  us — seats  of  the  Muses,  centres  of  learning  redo- 
lent with  glorious  memories?  And  in  our  own  country,  do 


we  not  think  of  Harvard  and  Yale  and  other  institutions,  as 
distinguishing  not  only  the  States  to  which  they  belong,  but 
as  an  honor  to  the  whole  country  ? 

Now,  could  we  rear  up  in  Michigan,  another  Harvard  or 
Yale,  or  better  still,  another  university  of  Paris,  or  Munich, 
or  Berlin,  would  it  not  be  a  title  of  honor  for  the  State  to  be 
proud  of,  a  public  good  which  would  invigorate  our  whole 
system  of  education,  and  scatter  its  influence  throughout  the 
whole  North-West,  nay  throughout  our  Country,  and  give 
our  State  a  pre-eminence  which  it  could  gain  from  nothing 
else? 

A  hundred  imperfect  and  feeble  institutions  would  achieve 
comparatively  little,  and  leave  us  as  unnoticed  as  other  States 
which  possess  them  ;  while,  one  university  of  the  true  form, 
and  fully  appointed  with  professors  and  the  material  of  learn- 
ing would  tell  mightily  upon  our  destiny,  and  fasten  the  eyes 
of  the  world  upon  us. 

When  I  was  last  iri  New  York,  a  Professor  of  Astronomy 
called  my  attention  to  a  paper,  he  had  just  received,  issued  at 
the  Observatory  in  Berlin,  in  which  the  old  Astronomer 
Encke  had  published  certain  calculations  made  by  the  direc- 
tor of  the  Detroit  Observatory  at  Ann  Arbor.  The  New 
York  Professor,  at  the  same  time,  remarked,  "  Ann  Arbor 
will  soon  become  as  well  known,  throughout  the  world,  as 
Pulkova,  Berlin,  Greenwich,  and  the  other  great  Observa- 
tories." 

Indeed,  such  is  the  natural  course  of  things.  It  is  the  truly 
good  and  perfect,  which  grows  in  the  estimation  of  the  world, 
attains  a  permanent  existence,  and  proves  an  exhaustless  ben- 
fit,  an  imperishable  value.  Other  things  may  have  their  day, 
but  sooner  or  later  must  die  away,  for  mankind  have  no  in- 
terest in  preserving  them.  The  vicar  of  Wakefield  will  sur_ 
vive  when  a  thousand  novels  now  eagerly  read  will  be  forgot- 
ten. One  play  of  Shakspeare  has  more .  immortality  in  it 
than  all  the  collected  volumes  of  Penny-a-liners  since  the 
time  of  Cadmus.  The  Battle  at  Bunker  Hill  is  worth  more 
than  the  wars  of  Alexander,  Csesar,  and  Napoleon.  The 


death  of  Socrates  was  more  heroic  and  contained  a  greater 
truth  than  the  lives  of  a  thousand  Kings  and  Emperors. — 
One  Kailroad  is  worth  more  than  all  the  roads  that  were  ever 
made  through  bogs  and  over  hills — yea,  than  the  old  Koman 
roads.  James  Watt  is  worth  more  than  a  whole  generation 
of  ordinary  men.  Whose  name  would  you  rather  have  in 
history,  that  of  Prince  Metternich  or  of  Kossuth  ?  Which 
would  you  rather  have  the  merit  of,  the  taking  of  Sevastopol, 
or  the  invention  of  the  electric  telegraph  ?  Nay,  to  come 
nearer  home,  is  it  not  more  honorable  to  give  that  noble 
Transit  Circle  to  our  observatory,  than  like  Rothschild  to 
manage  the  loans  of  Europe  ?  Let  us  strive  then  for  the 
good  and  perfect  in  all  things. 

Graduates  of  the  university  of  Michigan,  and  hence,  mem- 
bers of  the  university  itself!  Let  us  try  what  we  can  do  to 
perfect  one  institution.  Wherever  you  can  exert  influence, 
whatever  aid  you  can  afford,  whatever  work  you  can  do,  shun 
it  not ; — we  are  laboring  for  humanity,  and  for  the  genera- 
tions to  come. 

But,  on  the  present  occasion,  I  am  called,  not  so  much,  to 
address  the  graduates  at  large,  as  the  present  graduating 
class. 

Young  Gentlemen !  as  we  have  said,  you  now  commence 
your  novitiate  for  admission  into  the  university  association  of 
teachers.  In  this,  it  is  implied  that  you  enter  upon  a  new 
course  of  study.  Were  we  living  in  the  scholastic  age,  and 
were  I  addressing  you  on  a  similar  occasion,  I  would  say 
according  to  the  division  of  Arts,  then  obtaining,  You  have 
completed  the  Trivium,  and  are  now  about  to  enter  upon  the 
Quadrivium. 

How  different  the  course  upon  which  you  may  enter !  The 
Quadrivium!  what  did  it  comprise?  Arithmetic,  Geometry, 
Music,  and  Astronomy,  or  rather  Astrology  !  The  Trivium — 
what  did  it  comprise?  Grammar,  Logic,  and  Rhetoric.— 
Scholasticism  was  indeed  connected  with  Logic — and  a  huge 
system  it  was.  Seven  Arts  studied  in  seven  years  made  the 
master  of  Arts.  We  have  other  work  to  do  now.  The  mystic 


number  of  years  might  be  adequate  to  the  mystic  number  of 
Arts.  But  we  have  no  mystic  number  now  by  which  to 
charm  knowledge  within  our  embrace. 

What  is  the  work  before  you  young  gentlemen?  Accord- 
ing to  our  multiplied  sciences,  and  the  vast  enlargement 
of  each  one ; — according  to  our  multiplied  literature ; 
and  according  to  the  demands  made  upon  learning  by  the 
beautiful  arts,  by  the  useful  arts,  by  commerce,  by  legislation, 
by  all  the  offices  of  lite  in  an  age  of  high  civilization,  in  a  free 
country,  and  a  country  of  boundless  resources  and  energies; — 
your  work  is  to  make  ripe  scholars  of  yourselves. 

You  will  cordially  acknowledge,  1  have  no  doubt,  that 
hitherto  your  discipline  has  been  elementary  and  preparatory. 
You  do  not  claim  to  be  finished  scholars  in  the  classics,  or  in 
the  sciences.  Is  not  this  Commencement  but  a  commence- 
ment of  scholarship  ?  The  work  of  maturing  yourselves  in  the 
branches  you  have  attempted,  and  of  enlarging  the  bounda- 
ries of  your  knowledge,  is  now  before  you.  A  great  work  it 
is,  but  a  work  most  necessary.  Stop  where  you  are,  and  these 
imperfect  acquisitions  will  slip  away  from  you.  Your  crude 
knowledge  of  the  Latin  and  Greek  will  grow  more  crude;  you 
will  speak  worse  French  and  German;  the  propositions  of 
Euclid  will  grow  more  dim,  so  that  you  will  scarcely  be  able 
to  revive  the  lines  of  the  diagrams,  and  you  will  never  again 
arrive  at  the  quod  erat  demonstrandum;  Physics  will  be  quite 
expurgated  from  your  minds;  Chemistry  will  vanish  into  thin 
air;  Geology  will  become  a  fossil  science;  and  Astronomy 
will  go  and  dwell  among  the  stars  where  your  telescope  will 
not  find  it. 

Three  things  will  be  required  of  you  to  enable  you  to  ac- 
complish your  work — method,  earnestness,  and  perseverance. 

Method,  to  lay  out  your  work  in  due  order,  so  that  every 
day  shall  have  its  occupation,  and  every  hour  its  task.  Amid 
all  the  disturbances  of  other  engagements,  under  all  the  bur- 
dens of  life,  method  will  still  open  a  way  before  you,  and  sup- 
ply you  with  strength  to  go  on.  The  man  of  method  has  al- 
ways something  to  do;  he  is  shielded  against  the  intrusions 


of  frivolous  company,  and  is  saved  from  idle  reveries,  from  ex- 
travagant plans  and  delusive  hopee.  He  cannot  become  the 
Tictim  of  his  own  dreams,  or  of  the  schemes  of  others. 

We  are  ever  prone  to  complain  of  the  want  of  time,  and  the 
shortness  of  life.  The  man  of  method,  by  saving  all  his  time, 
finds  that  he  has  time  enough.  Tasks  accomplished  give 
strength  and  hope  for  new  tasks.  Knowledge  steadily  gained  is 
turned  into  a  fixed  capital  of  knowledge,  by  which  more  knowl- 
edge is  gained.  It  is  wonderful  how  much  a  little  daily  careful 
reading  of  the  classics — a  little  daily  study  of  science,  will  ac- 
complish in  the  course  of  a  year  when  it  is  carried  on  method- 
ically. Thus  the  grain  of  mustard  seed  will  grow  until  it 
becomes  a  tree  filled  with  the  singing  birds  of  heaven.  Thus 
the  leaven  will  spread  through  the  whole  lump  until  the  whole 
be  leavened,  and  knowledge  will  irradiate  the  mind. 

A  methodical  soul  will  be  likely  to  be  both  earnest  and 
persevering.  But  there  are,  sometimes,  slow,  driveling,  stupid 
methodical  men.  We  speak  therefore  of  earnestness  and  per- 
severance also.  The  first  is  an  inward  fire  that  always  burns. 
It  belongs  to  him  who  appreciates  his  work,  and  loves  it. 
The  second  is  the  indomitable  will  which  no  danger  can  in- 
timidate, no  temptation  draw  aside,  and  no  disappointment 
depress.  The  earnest  man  hears  the  song  of  the  lark  in  the 
morning — he  is  ready  for  his  task.  The  persevering  man 
is  still  at  work  when  the  night  falls. 

These  three  qualities  in  unison  will  make  the  scholar — 
will  make  anything  that  is  great,  good,  and  powerful. 

Young  Gentlemen,  you  have  two  possessions  which  are 
worth  more  than  the  might  and  treasures  of  kings.  I  mean 
youth  and  health.  Eightly  employ  the  one,  and  carefully 
preserve  the  other,  and  whatever  is  possible  to  man  is  possible 
to  you. 

Youth !  glorious  period !  when  life  is  fresh,  when  the  eye 
is  bright,  when  the  heart  beats  tree,  when  hope  still  beckons 
you  on  to  beautiful  possibilities;  when  there  is  time  yet  to 
correct  mistakes,  to  amend  habits,  to  redeem  losses,  and  to 


10 

lay  the  'everlasting  foundations  of  knowledge,  wisdom  and 
virtue :  when  the  seeds  of  life — nay,  of  eternity — may  be 
sown  :  when  you  may  yet  say,  With  God's  help  I  will  be  a 
true  man ! 

Health !  the  conscious  strength  and  elasticity  of  limb,  the 
senses  tree  and  joyous  in  their  play,  the  nerves  strung  like  a 
musical  instrument,  and  the  very  sense  of  existence  an  ex- 
quisite delight:  when  thought  inflicts  no  pain,  and  labor  can 
scarcely  weary  the  powers  which  find  their  enjoyment  in  ac- 
tion: when  appetite  is  unpampered,  and  sleep  a  dream  of 
peace,  or  total  forgetfulness:  when  the  elements  contain  no 
disease,  and  all  things  around  are  friendly,  and  minister 
naught  but  good:  when  the  soul  and  body  are  happy  friends, 
and  God's  creation  pleasant  to  live  in. 

Youth  and  Health !  What  more  do  you  want  than  youth 
and  health,  to  gain  all  knowledge,  and  to  arrive  at  the  high- 
est and  most  beautiful  culture  ?  Determine  then  to  be  edu- 
cated men,  and  be  contented  with  no  mean  attainments. 
Youth  and  health  can  overcome  all  difficulties  and  accomplish 
all  tasks.  Why  should  not  you  take  your  place  among  the 
wisest  and  best  of  the  race  ?  What  has  been  done  can  be 
done.  Why  should  not  you  undertake  to  do  what  others  be- 
fore you  have  done.  You  have  youth  and  health;  what  then 
can  hinder  you  ? 

A  glorious  gift  is  life,  with  all  the  possibilities  it  opens  to 
you.  Life  is  all  yours  yet,  and  you  are  strong  to  run  the  race. 
Lose  not  life;  and  therefore  lose  not  time,  for  time  is  the  stuff 
which  life  is  made  of.  Lose  not  time — lose  any  earthly  pos- 
session or  advantage,  rather  than  time.  Lose  not  time,  and 
therefore  save  your  youth.  Save  your  health,  and  so  preserve 
your  time. 

Young  Gentlemen  !  Everything  to  you  is  full  of  hope  and 
promise.  See  and  value  the  advantages  you  possess.  Believe 
that  you  can  do  much,  and  set  out  to  do  much.  Remember^ 
you  have  but  one  life  to  live,  and  therefore,  now,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  life,  determine  to  make  the  most  of  it. 


11 

What  more  can  I  say  to  you,  except  that  best  of  all  advice, 
to  fear  God,  to  trust  in  God,  to  love  your  fellow  men,  and 
always  to  do  y  our  duty. 

Many  pleasant  hours  have  I  spent  with  you,  and  I  speak 
but  the  truth  when  I  say,  it  is  painful  to  part  with  you.  But 
I  will  cherish  the  expectation  of  meeting  with  you  sometimes, 
to  renew  the  old  fellowship  of  thought  and  spirit.  "We  have 
lived  together  as  friends — we  part  as  friends — when  we  meet 
we  shall  meet  as  friends.  May  the  good  God  bless  you,  and 
keep  you  in  his  holy  and  paternal  keeping.  May  you  live 
honorable,  holy,  and  happy  lives.  May  you  find  your  happi- 
ness in  making  others  happy.  And  when  life  closes,  may 
you  find  that  you  have  made  the  most  of  Iife3  and  gained  a 
preparation  for  the  life  that  never  ends. 


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